


all the wrong choices

by babylupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also fluff, Angst, Apologies, Draco Malfoy Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Drinking, Explicit Language, Firewhiskey, Fluff, Harry Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Lots of blushing, M/M, Plot Twists, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slow Burn, What other tags do I put, but nothing graphic, i didn't have time to write smut in rip, i guess, i just want my boys to be ok, ish, oh and there's mild smut, sorry - Freeform, that's the only reason it's mature, was hard, writing ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 17:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 62,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15491514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylupin/pseuds/babylupin
Summary: Draco turned on his heel and strode off down the corridor. Harry was left, in awe, watching him leave until he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Harry shuddered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He told himself it was the draught in the corridor, but he knew, deep down, that it was because he could sense the potential of something great.>>> An eighth-year!drarry au in which Draco uses the time after the war to make up with everyone he's treated wrongly in the past.





	1. flicker

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : All characters and whatnot belong to JK Rowling, but the plot is entirely original. Many of the fluffy scenes were inspired by headcanons off Tumblr, so if you recognise something, just know that I am not taking credit for it. This is a slow burn ... ISH. I won't say anything so I don't spoil it. I really hope you enjoy this; I've been working so hard on it and I'm so glad to be able to share it with you all.

The castle was quiet given that it was the start of the new school year. Harry missed being in the Gryffindor common room but was grateful that the newly appointed Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, had provided dormitories and a common room for the ‘eighth-year’ students returning to Hogwarts to finish their studies. Around thirty of the forty students in Harry’s year had come back, while the rest insisted that they were fine without N.E.W.Ts.

An old and unused corner of the castle had been converted into the eighth-year dorms. It had a common room that wasn’t quite as large as that of Gryffindor Tower, but large enough. There were sixteen small bedrooms with twin beds, two chests of drawers and a tall wardrobe. People paired off and chose their bedrooms; the teachers didn’t care who roomed with whom, as long as both roommates were happy. Naturally, Harry and Ron had chosen to room together. Hermione had made a mental tally of the number of students returning (thirty-one) and then waited for the rest of her year to sort themselves into pairs so that she would get the last room to herself. Many people complained that this was unfair, but Professor McGonagall merely told them that there was bound to be one student with a room to themselves, and Hermione had simply claimed it first.

The room that Hermione had wound up with was at the top of a staircase, which only reached three bedrooms, each one higher than the last. Hermione seemed quite content with her room, and spent much of the day reading in there. Harry’s and Ron’s room was at the end of a narrow corridor leading off from the common room, and it had a spectacular view of the Hogwarts grounds, including the Quidditch pitch in the distance. They liked to see the Quidditch pitch, even though they weren’t allowed to play, out of fairness to the rest of the school. Still, Harry and Ron sometimes finished their homework early and had time to go outside and race around on their broomsticks.

*

Harry was finishing up on a very difficult essay he’d been writing all day for Professor McGonagall. Once he had proofread it, he got up and stretched his arms over his head, flexing his fingers and groaning at how sore his muscles were after sitting down for so long. 

He looked around the room and saw Ron and Hermione sitting together in the corner. They looked cosy, so Harry decided he wouldn’t bother them. Harry rolled up his essay, capped his bottle of ink and tidied away his things. He stuffed everything under his arm and made his way towards his and Ron's dormitory. A door was opening as he walked down the corridor and Harry ran headlong into Draco Malfoy.

“Argh!” Malfoy exclaimed, looking down his front at the ink that had just spilled all over him. He glanced up to see who had caused this. “Watch where you’re going, Potter!”

“Same to you,” Harry replied bitterly as he bent down to pick his fallen things off the ground. He waved his wand at Malfoy’s robes and muttered,  _ “Tergeo!” _ The ink stains vanished.

“Thank you,” he said smoothly. Harry was quite shocked: he had never heard Malfoy say thank you to anybody in the seven long years he had known him. Granted, he had tried his best to ignore most of what Malfoy said, but even so, it was still surprising. Harry shrugged in response. “‘S’alright. Sorry for running into you.”

Malfoy gave him a half-smile; a look suggesting that he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure what more he could say. He hesitated for a moment, and then continued down the corridor, leaving Harry stunned. Upon realising he was now standing in the middle of the hallway like an idiot, Harry continued in the opposite direction towards his room. He set his books down on his chest of drawers and then flopped onto his bed.

For what felt like hours, Harry tried to read the chapters that would help him write his essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but ended up falling asleep. He didn’t wake again until Ron came barging into the room.

“Wake up, you lazy git,” he called loudly, poking Harry in the ribs.

“Wha-” Harry yawned. “What’s going on?”

Ron laughed. “It’s time for dinner, you weirdo.”

Harry tossed his pillow at Ron’s head, but Ron moved out of the way just in time and it landed on the floor with a soft  _ flump _ . Harry stretched and looked in the mirror, trying to make himself a little more presentable. His hair was sticking up all over the place, as usual, and his tie was loose. He adjusted the tie, but there was nothing to be done about his hair, which would most likely continue to defy gravity until the day he died.

He and Ron headed back into the common room, where they met Hermione, and then the three of them made their way down to dinner together. As they crossed the Entrance Hall, Harry noticed Malfoy and his friends talking quietly in a corner. Malfoy looked up as they passed and gave Harry a shockingly normal look; it was neither nasty nor friendly.

All through dinner, Harry kept catching himself staring over to the Slytherin table. He was fortunate that neither Ron nor Hermione noticed this, or else he’d probably be peppered with questions. After dinner, Ron and Harry turned to go and sit down by the fire but saw that their seats were already taken. Seated at their usual table were none other than Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy. Harry and Ron stared coldly at them as they sat down in squashy armchairs on the other side of the room, away from the windows.

“Slimy Slytherin gits,” Ron spat, his eyes still on the back of Malfoy’s head. “Lucky thing I ate a lot at dinner, or I’d be hexing them left, right and centre-”

“Leave it, Ron, they’re allowed to sit there.” Hermione rolled her eyes. She hadn’t sat down beside Ron but was standing and lingering beside them. Harry looked up at her.

“Won’t you sit down?” he asked her.

“Oh, no thank you, Harry, I’m going to go to bed. I’ve got no frees tomorrow and I expect I’ll be getting an awful lot of homework from my lessons, so I need to be well-rested.”

“Alright then, goodnight.  _ Accio!” _ said Ron, Summoning a set of Gobstones from across the room. Harry shook his head, hiding his smile, as Ron began to set up the game for him and Harry to play. Hermione was staring at him expectantly.

“I’m  _ going to bed _ ,” she repeated, enunciating each syllable.

_ “O-kay,”  _ Ron nodded, his tone matching hers.  _ “Goodnight!” _

Harry was beside himself. It was taking every fibre of his being not to fall about, roaring with laughter at Ron’s obliviousness. Hermione rolled her eyes and stormed off up the stairs to her room. It took a few moments before it dawned on Ron and he was sprinting up the staircase after Hermione. Laughing, Harry packed up the Gobstones and made to retire to his own room. He was interrupted, however, by Malfoy calling to him from the other side of the room.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry snarled. Malfoy’s eyes flickered from Harry’s face to his hand, which had flown inside his robes and was now gripping his wand tightly, just in case. The tentative look on Malfoy’s face vanished.  _ Just as well _ , Harry thought to himself.  _ Shy doesn’t suit him _ .

“I- nevermind…” he said quietly. Harry rolled his eyes and continued on to his room. He changed into his pyjamas and flopped onto his bed. He tried to read again but it was no use; his eyelids were suddenly very heavy and it wasn’t long before he was fast asleep, the book lying open on his chest.


	2. cheery

The eighth-years had double Charms first thing next day. Professor Flitwick asked them to split into pairs. Harry knew Ron and Hermione would partner up together, and looked around the room for another friend to work with, but everyone else was already in a pair. He was about to ask Professor Flitwick if he could work as a three with Ron and Hermione, but Flitwick spoke first.

“Ah, Mr Potter, you’ve no partner; neither does Mr Malfoy. The two of you can work together.”

Knowing there was no way out, Harry nodded glumly. He was expecting to hear some sort of roar of protest from the back of the classroom where Malfoy was sitting, but there was no such disturbance. Instead, Harry heard footsteps walking swiftly across the classroom and then Draco Malfoy was sitting down beside him.

Harry looked up in surprise. “No Parkinson today?”

“Afraid not,” Malfoy replied curtly.

Professor Flitwick began instructing them on what to do, but Harry continued speaking, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “Has she finally realised how much of a git you are?”

“No,” Malfoy replied sourly. “She’s pissed off with me.”

“How come?” asked Harry, hastily scribbling a note of what Flitwick was saying.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Malfoy looked at him, smug. “Never you mind, Potter. All you should be worrying about is practising … whatever it is he wants us to do.”

“ _Non-verbal Cheering Charms_ ,” Harry told him, reading off the blackboard. “Get ready to work with me and be happy, Malfoy.”

Malfoy snorted. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m good with a wand.”

“Oh yeah?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Is that all you’re good with?”

Harry felt colour rushing to his cheeks. “Wh-what?”

Malfoy grinned, and Harry wasn’t sure if it was a nasty smile or a genuinely-humoured smile. It seemed like the latter, owing to the light in Malfoy’s eyes Harry had never seen before. Then again, he might have been imagining it. It wasn’t like he’d paid very much attention to the cloudy grey of Malfoy’s eyes before…

“Go on then,” said Malfoy. The usual patronising tone in his voice was absent, Harry noticed. “Charm me.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Harry mumbled, going over his notes. If Malfoy had heard him, he didn’t say anything. Harry turned back to him, his wand outstretched. He waved it and screwed his eyes shut as he thought about carrying out the spell in his head. When he opened them again, Malfoy was smiling.

“Did it work?” Harry asked, excited.

Malfoy laughed. “You wish. I was only laughing at the stupid expression on your face. Did you even try?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to know if the charm’s working if you fucking smile on purpose?”

“Touchy, aren’t we?” Malfoy grinned again. There was much less friendliness in this smile, but Malfoy was still not being as hostile as Harry was used to.

“Can we please just do this properly?” Harry groaned, wishing time would pass faster.

“Alright, alright,” Malfoy said. His smile vanished and instead, he pulled a very stupid frown. Harry rolled his eyes again.

“Merlin’s balls, Malfoy, I will hex you-”

“Fine!” said Malfoy testily. He pulled a straight face. Harry tried to focus all of his anger into the spell. He closed his eyes again and concentrated on the words, but did not say them. He waved his wand and opened his eyes again. Malfoy was not smiling. Not even a little bit.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered. “Alright, let’s try again-”

“I’m bored,” Malfoy whined. “Let me have a go.”

“Be my guest,” Harry propped his chin up on his hand and stared at Malfoy boredly. Malfoy raised his wand and waved it, his lips mouthing the spell without any sound passing them. Harry found himself suddenly smiling very broadly. Once the charm had worn off, Harry gaped at Malfoy.

“How did you do that?”

Malfoy shrugged, but Harry pressed on. “No, really, how did you do that? That can’t have been your first attempt-”

“It was. I have a knack for non-verbal magic.”

Harry stared at him. “But … when-?”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s got nothing to do with you. Come on, Potter, _you’re_ the one who needs this practise.” Malfoy pointed out. Harry was confused as to why Malfoy was being so friendly, or, at least, _less_ hostile than he usually was. He decided not to bring it up, as it was possible that Malfoy was trying to redeem himself for his past mistakes. Harry thought that this extra year at Hogwarts that they were lucky enough to have been granted was a perfect time to try to right any wrongs from the past.

For the remainder of the lesson, Harry practised the charm on Malfoy. Most of the time, he couldn’t bring Malfoy to smile even weakly. However, once or twice, Harry managed to get Malfoy to grin extremely enthusiastically, and there was one instance where he overdid the charm a little bit, sending Malfoy into a fit of bizarre giggles.

At the end of the lesson, Harry and Malfoy parted. As Malfoy had got up to leave the classroom, Harry thought he heard him, say, “Bye.”

*

At lunch, Harry found himself staring over to the Slytherin table once again. He tried to busy himself in conversation with Ginny, who was now Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. As eighth-years were unable to play for the Inter-house Quidditch Cup, she kept coming to Harry for advice on tactics and formations. She seemed desperate to rid the dreadful memories of the war by training hard and beating the other Houses. Harry helped where he could but kept telling her that he was sure she’d be a fantastic Captain without his advice.

Harry’s relationship with Ginny had ended a month or so after the war. It had been mutual, leaving room for friendship with no heartbreak. In fact, they were still extremely close friends. They had, mutually, fallen out of love with each other. Ginny had been the one to say something first, to Harry’s relief, and they had had a surprisingly short conversation about it.

“Harry, there’s something I need to tell you…” Ginny said now, her voice dropping to a low whisper as she interrupted Harry from what he was saying about Wronski Feints. He looked at her.

“Of course,” he whispered back. “Anything.”

“I - I think-” Her voice was shaking. Harry saw her glance in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. “Well, I mean, I feel like I should tell you this - not just because of our past but because we’re so close and I trust you with this sort of thing. In all honesty, I don’t know who else I could talk to about this...”

Harry frowned at her. “Just tell me,” he said softly. “I promise I won’t get angry or overreact or do something stupid.”

She bit her lip. “It’s … _mad_.”

Harry scoffed. “I doubt that.”

She raised her eyebrows at him and took a deep breath. When she spoke, it was with so little volume that hardly any sound was made at all. _“I think I’m in love with Luna…”_

Out of all of the things Harry had suspected Ginny might say, this was certainly not one of them. He was surprised, and it was obviously evident in his face because Ginny immediately became very distressed.

“Oh, Merlin, what am I thinking? I can’t be in love with Luna!” she hissed, careful not to attract unwanted attention. She began to babble about how it was so stupid that she thought she’d ever resolve this and have it work out. Harry rolled his eyes and stuffed a bread roll into her mouth to shut her up.

“Stop wittering,” he said sternly, and she began to chew what she could of the roll while Harry gripped her shoulders and said, in a low whisper, “I don’t see what’s wrong.”

Ginny swallowed the bread and looked at him sadly. “I don’t think she likes girls.”

Harry nearly spat out his pumpkin juice. “Are you joking? Fucking hell, Ginny, she’s _so_ queer. And gay. For you. At least, that’s what I’ve noticed.”

Ginny scoffed. “As if you, Harry James Potter, would _notice_ anything. You’re so oblivious, you wouldn’t notice a brick wall if you walked right into it.”

“Hey!” Harry laughed. “I notice things!”

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. “Sure you do. _Anyway_...you think Luna likes me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry nodded. “Absolutely.”

“So, what do I do?” she asked, her freckled cheeks flushing with colour. Harry had never seen Ginny in such a flustered state before. She was usually so composed and quick-witted, it was quite odd to see her like this; blushing and clueless.

“Harry? What do I do?” she asked again. Harry shrugged. “Go for it. Tell her how you feel. Honestly, Gin, she’s such a good-hearted, wholesome person that she’d probably knock you over in a hug or a kiss or whatever. I don’t think anything bad could come out of you telling her. Really.”

“Really?”

“ _Yes_ , really,” said Harry, exasperated. Ginny gave him a look of pure affection and hugged him quickly before slinging her bag over her shoulder and dashing off to the Ravenclaw table.

“You aren’t telling her _now_ , are you?” Harry called after her incredulously. She threw a shrug over her shoulder and slid into the seat beside Luna. Harry smiled fondly, glad to see his friend happy.

He turned back to the others at the table and tried not to listen in to their conversations. After a moment, Harry noticed Hermione poke Ron and try to discreetly point out that Harry was no longer in conversation with Ginny. Ron looked around very obviously, and Harry pretended he had been busy with his stew the entire time.

Ron cleared his throat loudly, and Harry glanced up at him. “Alright?”

“I dunno,” said Ron vaguely. “Am I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Harry, frowning.

“Oh, nothing…” Ron stirred his soup. “Have fun in Charms? Have fun with your new best mate?”

“Who, Malfoy? What’re you playing at, mate, Flitwick just paired us up together-”

“Yeah, alright,” Ron snarled. “You hide behind that excuse. Me and the rest of the class could see that there was something else there.”

“Something else th- Ron! You’re being ridiculous! Hermione, would you please tell him that he’s being ridiculous?”

Hermione looked anxiously between the two of them. “Well - see - Harry,” she stammered quietly. Harry stared at her expectantly. Ron spoke again. “Don’t interrogate Hermione,” he spat. “I can speak for myself, and for everyone else in that lesson: you and Malfoy were _very_ cosy!”

Harry gaped at him. He could not believe how stupidly Ron was behaving. “Are you - are you _jealous_?”

Ron snorted. “Ha! As if _I’d_ be jealous of Malfoy!”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” said Harry. “I don’t see what your problem is, anyway. You and Hermione fucked off into a pair and everyone else was taken - I was going to ask to work in a three with you two, but Malfoy didn’t have a partner either. I didn’t _ask_ to get paired up with him. Besides, _of course_ it looked like we were having fun, or whatever you thought it looked like - we were practising _Cheering Charms!_ The entire objective of the lesson was to charm each other to be happy!”

Ron didn’t appear to be convinced. “Yeah, but why didn’t you argue with Flitwick or something?”

“Because there was no need to!” said Harry exasperatedly. “Honestly, Ron, if you could hear yourself, you’d realise how stupid you’re being. It was one lesson, mate, it isn’t like I personally asked Malfoy to replace you as my best friend!”

Ron, who had risen slightly off his chair, apparently about to storm off, sat down again and stared at his empty bowl. “Yeah, I suppose… Yeah, maybe you’re right. I s’pose I _was_ being a bit…-”

“Presumptuous?” Harry offered. “Rude? Hasty?”

“I - I get it. Sorry, mate.” Ron smiled weakly. Harry laughed. Hermione, who had busied herself in conversation with Neville, looked round at them hopefully. “Are you done arguing?”

Harry and Ron nodded at her, both of them grinning. “Yeah, we’re alright,” said Ron.

Harry considered bringing up the odd behaviour that Malfoy had displayed while they had worked together, but quickly changed his mind and decided to keep it to himself. His eyes darted across the room to the Slytherin table, and, for one fleeting moment, they locked with Malfoy’s. And Harry could have sworn that Malfoy had winked.


	3. whispers

Harry and Ron returned to the common room after lunch, as they both had a free while Hermione was in Ancient Runes. They settled into their favourite armchairs by the fire and took out their incomplete Transfiguration essays that were due next lesson. Harry had just begun to add to his when someone came into the common room, whooping loudly. He looked round and saw Malfoy’s friends climbing through the hole behind the tapestry that concealed the eighth-year common room and dormitories.

“Oi!” Ron yelled over to them. “Shut it!”

Pansy Parkinson turned and grinned at them maliciously. “What’s wrong, Weasley? Are we interrupting you from your homework? Aw, look at that, he wants to finish his homework! Since when did you get so bothered about homework, Weasley? Is it because you’re going out with Granger? Has she rubbed off on you - well, it’s not like she’s going to in any other sense-”

“Shut up!” Ron shouted, getting to his feet. Harry got up too, ready to hold Ron back if something happened. Pansy turned to him and gave him an even more concentrated look of disgust. It seemed as though it had been reserved special, just for him. Harry and Ron watched her as she turned on her heel and stalked off across the room.

“What’s she playing at?” Ron muttered as they sank back into their seats. Harry wasn’t sure if he expected a reply or not. He looked up as Pansy and the other Slytherins sat down on the other side of the room. Harry noticed that Malfoy wasn’t with them, and then remembered that Pansy was upset with him about something.

“Hey, Parkinson!” he shouted to her. She turned and scowled at him.

“What do you want, Potter?”

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

Pansy let out a shrill laugh. “Who? Draco? Shouldn’t I be asking _ you _ that?”

Harry frowned at her. “What?” His voice was not the only one that called it. He looked round and saw that Ron was gaping at Pansy, clearly dumbfounded. She laughed again and turned away from them. Harry looked at Ron and exchanged flabbergasted looks with him. “What’s she on about?” 

Harry shrugged. He had no idea what Pansy had meant by her comment. It was probably just something she had said to rile him up, but it was unable to vacate Harry’s mind. He thought about lunchtime, when Malfoy had winked at him. Had he winked? Harry couldn’t possibly know for sure; it could have just been something in Malfoy’s eye that had made it look like he was winking.

He tried to focus on his essay, but a weird sort of caricature of Malfoy overtly winking at him from across the Great Hall kept slipping into Harry’s mind. He slammed the book he was referencing shut, and Ron looked up.

“Are you done?” he asked incredulously. Harry shook his head.

“Reckon I could skive off Transfiguration?”

Ron shrugged. “Dunno… I would say that McGonagall would probably have you hanged, but you  _ did _ defeat Voldemort... _ again _ . For good this time.”

Harry rolled his eyes as Ron grinned at him. “I don’t want special treatment because I killed Voldemort. I just want to get on with school…”

“If you want to get on with it, why are you trying to skive?”

“I - That’s part of school.”

“What, skiving off lessons? Try telling Hermione that.” Ron widened his eyes and dipped his quill into his ink. “I’ve got about half a foot to go, and then I’m done. How long do we have until the lesson starts?”

Harry checked his watch. “About forty minutes. Should I write mine, come up with an excuse for why I didn’t finish it, or skive off?”

Ron sat back in his chair. “Hmm. A great selection of options. If it were me, I think I’d go for skiving. You could go and see Hagrid!”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. Yeah, I’ll skip and go see Hagrid.”

_ “Or,” _ came Hermione’s voice from within Harry’s conscience.  _ “You could finish your essay, hand it in on time, endure an hour and a half of Transfiguration, and go and see Hagrid later.” _

Harry groaned. He knew the Hermione in his head was right. As much as he wanted to keep putting off finishing his essay, he was aware that finishing it on time would be better. He leaned forward over the parchment and stared at it, waiting for inspiration to spark. He flipped through the pages of his reference book, searching for good points he could use in his essay. By the time their free lesson came to an end, Harry had managed to put together an extremely average essay that he would hand in to Professor McGonagall on time.

They heard the bell ring in the distance and gathered their things before heading out of the common room. They used a shortcut and were strolling down the corridor just before that of McGonagall’s classroom when they heard urgent whispers from around the corner, and stopped dead.

“I don’t care what he’s  _ like _ ,” one of the voices hissed. It definitely belonged to a girl.

“You’ll forgive me, as you seem to care very much about everything else!” the other countered. This voice was male. Harry and Ron couldn’t move to see who the voices belonged to without revealing themselves, and the whispering made it very difficult to make out who was speaking.

“Don’t get so touchy,” replied the female voice. “ _ You’re _ the one who’s been infatuated with him since the beginning of time. It isn’t my fault that you said the most ignorant thing imaginable-”

“Yes, I am well aware,” the male voice said tiredly. It was clear that he was about to say more, but at that moment, another voice called out into the corridor; a voice that was very loud, clear, and familiar.

“Mr  Potter, Mr  Weasley, if you two are  _ quite  _ finished lurking around the corner,” said Professor McGonagall from behind Ron and Harry, making them both jump. “-it would be good of you to make your way into my classroom, as the lesson is about to start.”

She swept past them and Ron and Harry shuddered as they made their way around the corner. They had both been hoping to see who had been whispering, but McGonagall appeared to have scared them off. Ron and Harry followed the line of eighth-years into the classroom and sat down beside Hermione, who was looking a great deal more tired than she had at lunch.

“I wish I’d just had a free,” she said quietly. “I would have used the time to edit my essay. I’m very displeased with it, but it’s the best I can do for now, given all the other work I’ve got to do…”

“I just finished my essay, and it’s absolute shite,” said Harry, quite unconcernedly. “I’m sure yours is fine, Hermione. And - before you say anything - a nine out of ten is still fine.”

*

After dinner and an hour of homework, Harry set off to see Hagrid. He was alone, as Ron was even further behind on his workload than Harry, and Hermione was in dire need of an early night. Harry left the Entrance Hall and stepped out into the darkening grounds. He could just about see the light flickering from within Hagrid’s cabin.

He knocked on the door politely, and could instantly hear Fang howling inside. The door swung open and Hagrid’s enormous figure appeared in the doorway.

“Harry?” he looked down at Harry, his beetle-black eyes twinkling. “What’re yeh doin’ down here, don’ yeh have homework ter do?”

Harry shrugged, and Hagrid stepped aside to let him in. “I’ll put the kettle on, ‘f yeh want a cuppa?”

Harry nodded, and Hagrid bustled about, making tea. “So,” said Hagrid as he pulled two mugs out of his cupboard. “Anythin’ I can help yeh with?”

“Er-” Harry wasn't entirely sure what to say. He knew what he had wanted to discuss with Hagrid, but didn’t know exactly how to phrase it without sounding like he was overthinking everything. “I just needed to talk to someone - other than Ron or Hermione.”

“Well, I don’ mind at all, you can come down here an’ talk ter me whenever yeh’d like.”

Harry smiled up at Hagrid as he handed him his tea. “I’ve just noticed a few things recently and don’t really know what to make of them. I think if I told Ron and Hermione, they’d overreact or something … you’d know what to do, though. Or at least say something comforting, which is really what I need.”

Hagrid looked at him, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Are yeh alrigh’? Sounds a bit serious ter me-”

“No, no, don’t worry, I’m fine. I just- I don’t know. There’s someone in my class who I’ve always been a bit …  _ tense _ with, but lately they’ve been really different. As in, they’re usually quick-witted and nasty and insufferable, but recently he’s been quite tolerable.”

“He?” said Hagrid. He narrowed his eyes at Harry curiously and then said, “Are yeh talkin’ abou’ Malfoy, by any chance?”

Harry stared, shocked. “Yeah,” he muttered glumly. “Don’t tell this to Ron and Hermione, they’ll probably come out with some ridiculous theory or something.”

Hagrid laughed. “Don’ worry, yer secret’s safe with me. Although I don’ see why yer so worried, Harry. Sounds ter me like Malfoy’s tryin’ ter make up for bein’ so rude ter yeh over the years.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s not so outrageous,” said Harry quietly. “It’s just so out of character for him! I’m so used to him throwing insults around all the time and being an idiot to anyone who looks at him. I just - I don’t see why he’s suddenly so interested in redeeming himself.”

“Maybe it’s easier fer him ter do it now,” Hagrid suggested wisely. “After all, las’ year he had ter deal with his parents bein’ Death Eaters an’ all, an’ then he was on the wrong side o’ the war. But now he’s back at Hogwarts. Bet he didn’t think that’d happen. Perhaps he thought he’d  _ die _ or summat...

“Anyway, I don’ think yeh should be so quick ter judge his change o’ behaviour, Harry. Seems as though he’s really tryin’ ter redeem ‘imself.”

Harry sipped his tea, not saying anything. He knew that Hagrid was right: he shouldn’t be so prejudiced against Malfoy when he was clearly trying to put the past behind them. Maybe he should try to make an effort to speak to him, seeing as Malfoy always seemed to change his mind whenever he managed to capture Harry’s attention.

Harry stayed with Hagrid for another forty minutes, before he bade him goodnight and quietly made his way back up to the castle. The cool mid-September breeze played at his hair as he walked through the now very dark grounds. The light of the Entrance Hall spilled onto the stone steps outside as he pulled open the great oak front doors and slipped back into the castle.

When he climbed through the hole behind the tapestry, he found that the common room was very full of his peers. He found Ron and Hermione sitting on the sofa beside the corridor that led to some of the dormitories, including Harry and Ron’s.

“Hi, Harry,” said Hermione, looking up from her work as he sat down beside her. “You were quick.”

“Why are you still up?” he asked her. “You need  _ sleep _ , Hermione!”

“Stop fussing,” Hermione yawned. “I need to catch up with all my homework, or else I’ll keep putting it off…”

Ron and Harry exchanged sceptical looks: they both knew that Hermione would rather cut out her own tongue than continue to put off work. Ron leaned forward and pulled Hermione’s essay away as she paused, her quill hovering above the parchment.

“Ron! Give that back, Ron!” she protested tiredly, yawning again. 

Ron shook his head. “Go to bed. You can have it back tomorrow morning.”

Hermione frowned at him grumpily, but did not dare argue. Yawning yet again, she got up and started shuffling across the common room towards the spiral staircase. Ron set her essay down on the table and followed to make sure she didn’t collapse on the way up. Harry sat, staring around the room at the other eighth-years, all talking animatedly or finishing off homework.

He yawned and checked his watch: there was still time for him to finish some of his own homework; maybe his Herbology diagram. He was about to get up and fetch his work from his dormitory, when he heard whispers from behind him in the corridor. He didn’t dare steal a glance at them, but knew instantly that the voices were the same as before.

“-so you don’t mind, then?” the male voice was saying. Harry still couldn’t make out who was speaking, but now that he knew they were an eighth-year student, his guesses were limited. He craned his neck to hear the conversation better.

“Yes, it’s fine,” the female voice replied. “Just don’t forget about me.”

“How could I ever?” said the male voice, apparently shocked. “You’re my best friend. He’s just someone I’m trying to-”

He trailed off, and Harry heard the distinct sounds of a door opening and closing in the corridor. A second later, Ernie Macmillan strode past Harry, completely unaware that he was sitting there. Feeling like the conversation had come to a close, Harry got up and turned into the corridor, and was greeted at once by the sight of Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy. They were standing close to one another, as though they had just been talking.

“Hello, Potter,” said Malfoy, his voice cold.

“Why’re you standing there, looking so guilty?” Harry asked them.

“We can stand where ever we want to, Potter,” Pansy snarled.

“Oh, I know,” Harry smiled at them. “It’s just, you might not want to talk out here in the open. Or, if you do anyway, perhaps you should learn how to whisper more quietly. Anyone could overhear you…”


	4. ashes

The promise of a free lesson before double Defence Against the Dark Arts brought happiness to the hearts of Harry, Ron and Hermione as they made their way back to the common room after breakfast next day. Harry had told Ron and Hermione what he had overheard; he wasn’t wholly sure why he wanted to keep the information to himself. As they walked along the corridor, he lagged behind them as they bickered about whether or not they should go to Hogsmeade that weekend.

“I just think we should finish all of our homework before we go and enjoy ourselves,” said Hermione. “That way, when we  _ do _ get free time, it’ll be so much better because we won’t be thinking about all the work waiting for us when we get back!”

“That’s stupid,” Ron argued. “Not even three months ago, we were fighting in a war. I’d like to distract myself and finally catch a break.”

Not wanting to listen to his best friends bicker yet again, Harry ducked down a narrow corridor which led to a tall spiral staircase. Curious as to how he’d never spotted this before, he followed the staircase up and up, emerging on what looked like the seventh-floor corridor. Yes, Harry recognised the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by a gang of trolls on the wall.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Harry strolled up and down the corridor three times, closing his eyes as he created an image of what he wanted. When he opened his eyes again, a door had materialised on the otherwise blank wall. He stepped forward, turned the handle and slowly edged inside. He was immediately greeted by the very prominent smell of smoke. Harry stared around the room at the ashes and ruins of the objects that had once been stored or hidden inside. He covered his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his robes and sheepishly toed at what looked like a piece of wood, perhaps from an old cabinet.

An image suddenly took over Harry’s thoughts, causing him to almost collapse with shock. Roaring flames of amber and apricot swirled around him. He was running through the towering stacks of books and ornaments with inhuman speed... Harry staggered backwards, trying to shake the image - the memory - from his mind, if not for good then at least for now. It was no use: the sound of the room crumbling around him was growing louder and louder in his mind and Harry felt as though he was about to faint. He watched the room spin around him. The flames were diminishing, the room was getting darker and darker, Harry felt himself fall towards the floor and tried to break his fall with his hands, but it was no use. He was too weak.

Suddenly, there were hands slipping under Harry’s arms, supporting him before he hit the floor. Harry couldn’t look around at who was helping him. He didn’t know why this was happening or why flashbacks like these made him physically weak. He’d been dealing with episodes like this since the war had ended, but there was no evidence to suggest that he’d gotten any better at dealing with them. Harry felt his eyes close as whoever had helped him gently laid him down on the cold stone floor.

A few minutes past before Harry’s eyes fluttered open again. His back ached and his throat was dry. He sat up quickly; a little too quickly, and his stomach lurched as the room spun for a few seconds. He got to his feet and looked around, nearly collapsing again.

“Malfoy?” Harry narrowed his eyes, unsure if he was seeing properly.

“Hello, Potter,” Malfoy replied weakly. He was sitting on the floor beside where Harry had just been lying. Harry thought, for the brief second he and Malfoy looked right at each other, that he could see fear in Malfoy’s cold grey eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

Malfoy let out a short, scornful laugh. “Oh, aren’t you charming - is that the thanks I get for stopping you cracking your head open and bleeding out in here?”

Harry stared at him. “You… That was  _ you _ ?”

“I know, I couldn’t believe it either-”

“Thank you,” said Harry, quickly. He hesitated for a second, and then, “Why were you even  _ here _ ?”

“I noticed you slip away from Weasley and Granger. I needed to talk to you, so I followed you here. Good job I did, too, or you’d be dead on the floor. When I saw that you’d come in here, I almost turned and left. I didn’t want to come in here, not after…”

He trailed off, but Harry knew. Malfoy looked at the floor: it was clear that he was uncomfortable. Harry wasn’t sure if it was because they were talking so casually or because they were in the room where they had both nearly died. Harry suggested they leave, and it seemed that Malfoy was more than willing.

“Did you say you wanted to talk to me?” Harry asked as the door shut behind him. He breathed in the clean air and felt his mind clear of the post-traumatic thoughts that had occupied his brain while inside.

“Yeah…” Malfoy shifted his weight with uncertainty. “Listen, I just - I wanted to apologise.”

Harry stared at him, shocked. Malfoy went on, “I’ve been such a dick to you and your friends for all these years and it’s finally come back to haunt me. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, let alone come back for another year. I thought that was it, after the war. I thought things would be …  _ bad _ between us forever, but then - then they said we could come back and make up for the year we’d lost. My first thought was making up for the  _ years _ that  _ we _ had lost. I’m - I’m so sorry, Potter. For being a stupid, jealous, petty child who took pleasure in making you and everyone in your life feel horrible. It was unfair and pathetic.”

“I-”

“I know it’s probably strange, to hear this from me,” Malfoy went on. “-considering the side of me you’ve known for so long; the side of me that  _ I’ve _ known all my life. But honestly, it’s been eating me alive. I can’t imagine how I must have made you feel. I mean, discovering that you were a wizard and starting at Hogwarts might have been the best thing that ever happened to you, and I had to go and ruin it. I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

Harry had been looking at Malfoy as he said all of this. He could see that he meant every word that fell out of his mouth. Harry wasn’t sure what to say. He definitely hadn’t expected this. 

“I’m sorry too,” he found himself saying. “I’ve been so dismissive of you and the Slytherins, and for treating you all horribly purely because of what I’d heard about other Slytherins. And I don’t think you’re a bad person. I know that all of the shit you did these last few years was because you were forced into it and didn’t have a choice. I think you just got a stroke of bad luck with the cards you were dealt.”

Malfoy offered Harry a weak smile. “Thank you, Potter. That means ... a lot.”

Harry nodded. “The same to you. I think we should just start over; put this childish rivalry behind us and focus on the future.”

“Or maybe, just live in the moment and enjoy  _ now _ .”

Harry grinned. “Yeah... That sounds good too.”

Neither of them said anything for a second. Harry was staring at his foot. He looked up. “So … a truce?” He stuck out his hand.

Draco’s hand met Harry’s in a firm grip, and he shook it affirmatively. “Yes. A truce. No more petty fighting or half-arsed insults or stupid backchat.”

Harry nodded, pulling his hand away. “Right.” He absent-mindedly lifted his hand to his hair and tried to flatten it. “So, I suppose - if you want - I guess we’re…”

“Friends.” Draco let out a hollow laugh. “We’re friends now, Potter... Alright, we’re  _ nearly _ friends now. But we’re getting there.”

Harry smiled at him. Draco turned to leave but hesitated. “Also, while we’re at it, don’t do that to your hair. You look much nicer when you leave it untouched. It suits you.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off down the corridor. Harry was left, in awe, watching him leave until he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Harry shuddered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He told himself it was the draught in the corridor, but he knew, deep down, that it was because he could sense the potential of something great.


	5. cosy

When Harry returned to the eighth-year common room, Hermione was reading through Ron’s essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts. With a groan, Harry realised that he hadn’t proofread his own essay, and hurried to his dormitory to fetch it. He had taken the class with the intention of using it to become an Auror, but during the summer had recalled his choices and decided to pursue a career in teaching. He had enjoyed leading the DA so much, he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. Nevertheless, a lot of his classes were still required for his newly-selected professional field. However, he was finding Defence Against the Dark Arts particularly difficult this year.

Hermione looked up from her Astronomy star chart and read his words upside down as he read through his essay for the fourth time.

“Harry, I’m sure it’s fine. You’re brilliant in Defence; the best in the year. I don’t understand why you’re so worried about this essay.” She held out her hand. “Here, give it to me - I’ll give you a second opinion if you’re so anxious.”

He passed her the roll of parchment and she leaned back in her armchair, her eyes zooming back and forth over the page. Harry stared boredly around the room. Ron had moved away and was now sitting with Dean and Seamus, the three of them practising non-verbal Summoning and Banishing spells in a corner of the room for Professor Flitwick. 

Hermione cleared her throat and Harry turned his attention back to her. “Like I said: brilliant. It’s excellent, Harry, now would you please put it away and stop procrastinating from your other work?”

Harry thought it was a good time to tell them what had happened with Malfoy, seeing as he still hadn’t got round to it. He tidied away his Defence books and capped his bottle of ink, then called Ron over to where he and Hermione were sitting.

“What’s up?” said Ron, sliding onto the sofa beside Hermione, who shot him an annoyed look as the ink smudged on her star chart. He pressed a quick kiss onto her temple in apology and looked back to Harry.

“After dinner, I went to the Room of Requirement…” 

“Yeah, we know,” said Ron, grinning. “You told us when you came back-”

“I didn’t tell you that I wasn’t alone,” said Harry shiftily.

Hermione frowned at him. “Who were you with?”

“Are you and Ginny back together?” Ron asked, his tone full of dread. Both Harry and Hermione gave Ron very disgusted looks before Harry continued, “No, you plonker, I wasn’t with Ginny. I was actually with … Malfoy.”

_ “What?” _ Ron and Hermione exclaimed together, Hermione’s voice dropping to a low whisper while Ron’s escalated to a loud shout. Harry hissed at him to be quiet, and Hermione whacked him on the arm to get him to shut up.

“You weren’t duelling again were you, Harry? He knows a lot of really dark curses that could seriously hurt you!” Hermione pleaded.

“No, we weren’t duelling. I went into the Room of Requirement and had - I had a really bad flashback, of the Fiendfyre, and I fainted-”

“You  _ fainted _ ?” Hermione gasped. “Harry, I told you, you should-”

“Please don’t lecture me again, Hermione, I am fully aware of everything I should be doing for my … my PTSD. Anyway, I fainted, but someone caught me. When I came to, not long after, I looked round and saw that it was Malfoy. We were both clearly distressed by being in the room that we left, and then we got to talking and he said that he didn’t want- he didn’t want this enmity to continue; said that he wanted to put it all behind us and start fresh…”

Ron narrowed his eyes. “You’re sure he wasn’t taking the piss or anything?”

Harry looked at Ron and nodded. “”He really sounded like he was being sincere.”

Hermione was biting her lip. “I think that’s great; that you two were able to talk without hexing each other. And I’m certainly glad that you’re  _ both _ going to try and be civil towards each other.”

Harry smiled at her, and then turned to Ron, who was still looking a bit sceptical. “I dunno… What if he’s trying to make you say something that’ll make you look stupid?”

Hermione let out a short and hollow laugh. “Really, Ron, I think even Malfoy’s aware that we’re all a bit old for stupid ridiculing. It sounds like he really wants to change.”

“He’s never shown any signs of wanting to change before now! Why should we trust him all of a sudden? Excuse me for being worried for my best friend…”

“Don’t-” Hermione started, but Ron cut her off.

“He’s been horrible to you for the last seven years, Hermione, and you’re willing to just wave your hand and let it all go? He called you a Mudblood! Multiple times! He’s been such a dick to all three of us, and others, and it feels like you don’t even care. Aren’t you interested in hearing what he has to say before you suddenly forgive him for everything? I don’t think I’m being  _ that _ unreasonable.”

“You aren’t…” said Hermione quietly. “You’re right.”

Ron looked at her in surprise. He obviously hadn’t expected her to give in so quickly. Harry was staring from Ron to Hermione, his brow furrowed. He was extremely confused.

“So…” he said quietly. “What do I do?”

Hermione looked at him. “Well what did you tell  _ him _ ?”

“Malfoy? I - er - I said okay. I said I was willing to put the past behind us and try to move on. I think I apologised too. He apologised first!” Harry said quickly, seeing the looks on his friends’ faces. “He apologised, and then I wasn’t sure what to do, so I apologised too. I meant it, too, by the way. I  _ do _ feel awful for being so dismissive of the Slytherins because of what I’d heard about dark wizards. Just because  _ some _ Slytherins had turned out bad doesn’t mean _ all _ of them would have done, does it? Looking back, it seems unfair and I can see that I was wrong to be so prejudiced against them.”

Ron gaped at him. “So that’s it? You and Malfoy are just going to be best friends from now, because you’ve apologised and kissed and made up?”

Harry stared at him and let out a short laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ron. I’m only saying that Malfoy and I have agreed that we  _ both _ want to move on and try to be civil towards each other. We’re not best friends and we’re definitely not... _ kissing _ .”

He hoped that this would persuade Ron to see what he was saying, but it was no use. Ron got up and stormed off, heading down the narrow stone corridor towards his and Harry’s dormitory. Hermione was sitting quietly, staring at her feet. Harry looked at her and her eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

“I- I think this is good,” she said, sounding unsure. Harry frowned at her, and she went on. “I think it shows that you and Malfoy are mature and have definitely made a start on growing up and moving on from being so petty all the time…”

She bit her lip uncertainly. “Although I can see why Ron’s upset, I can see why you think this is a good idea. I agree with both of you.”

“How does that help me?” Harry sighed. “Ron’s probably not going to speak to me for a few days and even when he decides to, he’ll still try and talk me out of it!”

“Let me try to reason with him. I’ll try to make him see why he should at least give Malfoy a chance rather than immediately assuming the worst of him.”

Harry nodded, and Hermione rushed off down to his and Ron’s room. Harry leaned back in his chair, exasperated. With a groan, he realised he still had much homework to do, and leaned forwards once more, hunching over his own star chart.

When he checked his watch hours later and saw that it was nearly two o’clock in the morning, he decided it was time to go to bed. He tidied away his things and heaved his stack of books out of the common room and into his room. He found Ron and Hermione curled up on Ron’s bed. They looked as though they had fallen asleep talking, or perhaps arguing. Harry, as quietly as he could, took off his robes and pulled on a t-shirt. He climbed into his bed and lifted the warm covers over his shoulders. He watched Ron and Hermione for a moment, fast asleep in each other’s arms, Hermione’s head resting just below Ron’s chin. Harry smiled fondly and then took off his glasses, set them on his bedside table and lay his head on the pillow. It wasn’t long before he too was fast asleep.


	6. chat

When Harry woke next day, he found himself alone in the dormitory. He sleepily headed to the showers and switched the water on the coldest setting in an effort to wake himself up properly. He went back to his room and got dressed, then headed down to breakfast, finding that many people had risen late this morning, as the Great Hall was still very full considering the time. Harry spotted Ron and Hermione along the middle of the Gryffindor table and sat down beside opposite them, looking at Ron hopefully.

“I’m sorry for dismissing you last night,” Ron mumbled over his cup of coffee. “I should have listened to you and at least tried to hear you out. ‘Mione told me everything again - so I could listen properly - and  _ now _ I can see that it was very nice of Malfoy to stop you from hitting the ground so hard when you fainted ... and also for making an effort to move on. I’m sorry.”

Harry beamed at his best friend. “‘S’alright. I know it’s out of character for Malfoy and I know why you were upset. You weren’t being unreasonable.”

They smiled at each other and Hermione looked as though was going to burst into tears. “You two are so  _ stupid _ !” she cried, punching Ron on the arm. He moved his arm and wrapped it around her, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. Hermione recomposed herself and suddenly became very interested in spreading marmalade onto her toast.

“I’m not saying that Malfoy and I are suddenly going to be with each other constantly, and I’m definitely not about to blow either of you off to spend time with him. We just decided not to be at each other’s throats any more. That’s all.”

Ron nodded. “I know. Sorry for being such a git.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

The three of them worked in the common room for a few hours until Hermione finally gave in and complained loudly about how much she wanted a Butterbeer. Ron and Harry packed up their stuff and triumphantly picked up their cloaks from their room. They met Hermione back in the common room and the three of them headed towards the Entrance Hall, where Filch, as usual, checked their names off a long list.

“Oh, it’s quite chilly, isn’t it?” Hermione shivered, tightening her scarf. They ploughed through the grounds and out the gates, continuing down the road until they were strolling along the High Street. Hermione pulled them into Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop and Harry watched the other Hogwarts students milling around while Ron and Hermione perused the different quills.

Five minutes later, Hermione had selected a new quill and they were outside again. They passed Honeydukes, heading straight for the Three Broomsticks, where they ordered three Butterbeers and sat down at a table by the window. They finished their drinks quickly and ordered more, enjoying their time away from school. Harry was just returning with their third round when Ron clapped his hand to his head and swore loudly.

“What is it?” Hermione asked him. Harry sidled his way back to their table and sank into his seat once more.

Ron looked at her, his ears going red and his eyes round with affection. “I’ve just realised… I forgot to buy you a birthday present!”

Hermione’s expression of worried quickly vanished, and she let out a sharp exhale of relief. “Oh… Don’t be so dramatic, Ron, I really thought something was wrong!”

“It is!” said Ron earnestly. “I can’t believe this!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to buy me a present-”

“No, come on, your birthday is next week and you sure as hell aren’t  _ not _ getting anything from me.” He took her hand and stood up. “Come on, ‘Mione, you can choose.”

She knew it was no use arguing. She stood up and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders once more, then looked at Harry. “I don’t suppose you want to come along?”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, I’m alright here.”

“We’ll be right back!” she called to him as Ron marched out of the shop. Through the window, Harry could see her laughing as she followed Ron down the street. He opened his third bottle of Butterbeer and took a long swig as he watched other students stroll past the window, clutching colourful shopping bags and talking to one another animatedly as they walked.

“Mind if I sit down?” a voice interrupted Harry and recalled him to the pub. He had begun to daydream as he watched the shoppers pass. He turned his head and saw Draco Malfoy standing tentatively behind the seat on which Hermione had been sitting. Harry shook his head, and Draco sat down beside him. He picked up one of the unopened bottles. 

“May I?” he asked politely.

Harry watched him cautiously. “You can have it for two Sickles.”

Draco chuckled and opened the bottle. He took a sip from it and rummaged through his pockets, then pushed two silver coins across the rickety round table. He took a long gulp from the bottle, watching Harry, who was staring at the Sickles.

“They aren’t cursed, you know,” said Draco quietly. Harry looked at him. It was so bizarre to be sitting and having a drink with Draco Malfoy, someone who - up until very recently - seemed to despise Harry’s very existence.

“No Granger or Weasley?” Draco asked, obviously trying to start up a conversation. It was bizarre for him, too. He had no idea what Harry really thought of him, let alone what he was interested in talking about. 

“They’ve just left,” said Harry. “They’ll be back soon.”

The two of them sat, saying nothing to one another, for a few minutes. They drank from their bottles of Butterbeer every so often and avoided each other’s eyes. It was quite uncomfortable and awkward, but neither Harry nor Draco seemed to dislike it so much that they wanted to leave.

After what felt like hours, Harry said, “So, where are  _ your _ friends?”

Draco sighed. “Oh, they’re somewhere around. Pansy’s upset with me.”

“Still?”

“No. Again.”

“Oh,” Harry drained his bottle and set it down on the table with a soft thud. “May I ask why, this time?”

Draco smirked at him. “It’s actually because of you…”

“Me?” Harry frowned. “Why?”

“Merlin’s beard, Potter, can’t you  _ guess _ ?”

“Is it because of - because of  _ this _ ?” Harry gestured to him and Draco, sat and drinking Butterbeer together in the Three Broomsticks as though they were old friends. Draco nodded as he took a swig of his Butterbeer.

“Yeah, she isn’t particularly keen on us being friends. I don’t know how it affects  _ her _ , though. It isn’t like I’m going to invite you into our room to make friendship bracelets and sing.”

Harry laughed. “Ron’s the same. Or at least - he  _ was _ . We managed to get round to him, in the end, though I don’t think he’s totally convinced. Still, we can’t blame them, can we? I mean, we’ve been more or less at war with each other for seven years, and a lot’s happened that Pansy and Ron don’t seem to want to forget.”

Draco nodded. “Absolutely. Blaise, on the other hand, is perfectly adamant about it. He’s fine with me befriending you, and doesn’t seem all that bothered about whether we’re arguing or not.”

“Hermione said it was a good thing that we wouldn’t be so hostile towards each other any more, but I wouldn’t say she’s content with it or anything. You did call her a Mudblood a fair few times…”

Draco looked at Harry and said, with genuine sincerity, “I did, and I’m sorry for that.”

“You might want to say that to her,” Harry fiddled with the hem of his jumper. “I think there are a lot of people you ought to apologise to this year. It might not be easy but it’s the first step towards redemption. Besides, if you make amends with everyone, they won’t be so confused if they saw us sitting together in the Three Broomsticks again.”

“Again?” The corner of Draco’s mouth curled into a smile. “You want to do this again?”

Harry shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind.”

They were grinning at each other when Luna appeared beside Harry. She had obviously just come in, as she was still wearing her cloak. Harry beamed up at her, and noticed that her left hand was intertwined with Ginny’s. Harry looked round and saw that Ginny was busy in conversation with a group of students at a nearby table.

“Hello, Harry,” said Luna dreamily. She turned to Draco. “Hello.”

“Hi, Luna,” said Harry brightly. “D’you want to sit down?”

“Oh, thank you,” Luna smiled at him and sunk into the seat. Ginny turned and smiled at Harry, then gave Draco a cold look. She stood between Harry and Luna’s seats, watching Draco, her eyes narrowed.

“Why’re you sitting with  _ him _ ?” she whispered to Harry, who hissed at her to be quiet. She turned back to Luna. “I’ll be right back, love, I just need to talk to these idiots about training tomorrow night…”

Luna nodded and Ginny rushed off. Draco was studying Luna with apparent interest, and Harry raised his eyebrow at him. Luna held up the remaining Butterbeer. “May I have this?” she said, looking from Draco to Harry, who nodded.

“Are you and that she-Weasel going out?” Draco asked, leaning forward over the table, not taking his eyes off Luna.

“Her name is Ginny,” said Luna coolly. “And yes, I am. She came up to me the other day, blabbering about feelings and whatnot... I eventually managed to get it out of her, and she told me she was in love with me. I was quite pleased, and told her I felt the same way, of course; that I had done for some time… Isn’t the weather lovely today?”

Draco leaned forward in his seat. “I had no idea you were queer,” he said to Luna.

Harry snorted. “Of course you wouldn’t! You haven’t exactly done much to get to know her or anything, because if you had, you’d know at once if she was queer.”

Luna smiled at them, completely unbothered. “Yes, I think I’m pansexual, but I’ve no idea for sure. No matter … there isn’t any rush. What about you?” she asked Draco.

Draco stared at the two Sickles he’d passed to Harry, which were still lying on the table. “I’m ... I think you know,” he said to Luna, who nodded.

“I suspected,” Luna smiled at him again, her voice dreamy. “But I had to ask, of course. I hate hearing things that haven’t been confirmed. Rumours.”

Draco nodded, but said nothing. He knew he’d done his part in helping many a rumour float around Hogwarts in the years he’d attended the school. Harry was gaping from Draco to Luna, completely flummoxed as to what on earth they were talking about.

“Erm - could anyone tell  _ me _ what’s going on?” he asked, his brow furrowed. Draco laughed, but it wasn’t cold or nasty like Harry was used to.

“You’ll learn in time, Potter,” he replied. “I must dash; your friends seem to have returned.”

He pointed out the window, where Harry saw Ron and Hermione marching back up the street. Hermione’s arms were crossed and she looked grumpy. Harry turned away from the window and saw Draco getting to his feet, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders.

“This has been fun,” he said. “Perhaps we could do it again?”

Harry shrugged, and Draco turned to Luna, whose large, protuberant, slightly mad eyes were staring out the window.

“Loveg-  _ Luna _ ,” he said, and she moved her gaze towards him. “I - I’m really sorry that you were locked up in my cellar last year… I can’t imagine what that must have been like and I wish I hadn’t been such a coward. I shouldn’t have let that happen, and I don’t know if I could live with myself if you weren’t sitting here today.”

“That’s quite alright, Draco,” she said dreamily, smiling at him. “I understand the position you were in; that you did what you had to. I’m okay now, and that’s what matters. There’s no use dwelling in the past or wondering about the future. We might miss what’s happening before our eyes if we do.”

Draco smiled weakly at her, relieved she had forgiven him. Suddenly, Luna got out of her seat and threw her arms around Draco, pulling him into a tight and unexpected hug. Draco’s eyes widened and his arms hovered in mid-air above Luna’s back. Harry wondered if Draco had ever been hugged before, or at least, hugged by a friend.

“What the-” Ginny sidled through the gap between the tables, staring at Luna and Draco, her eyebrows raised. She looked to Harry, who shrugged pointedly and continued staring at them. Slowly, Draco lowered his arms and placed them awkwardly on Luna’s back. He closed his eyes uncertainly and seemed to relax, slouching forward slightly and hugging Luna back.

“Hi, Harry, sorry we kept you wait- Oh.” Ron and Hermione had returned, and were now standing behind Harry on either side of him, gaping at Draco and Luna in the same way as Harry and Ginny. Finally, Luna released Draco and straightened the odd pair of glasses sitting atop her head.

“Shall we go?” she said to Ginny, who was still staring in shock. Luna placed a quick kiss on her cheek and she seemed to return to her senses. Ron was now staring at them, and Harry guessed that he was wondering if it was common for girls to kiss their female friends on the cheek.

“See you,” said Ginny, slapping her brother on the back as she and Luna drifted out of the pub. Draco was apparently rooted to the spot, still in shock from Luna’s hug. Ron pushed past him and sat down in his seat. Hermione followed him, brushing past Draco as she sat on the seat between Ron and Harry.

Draco shook his head, recalling himself. “Well, it was nice talking to you, Potter.”

He moved away from them, squeezing through the crowd until he reached the door, which he pushed open. Then he was gone.


	7. green

Ron and Hermione seemed to spare Harry the interrogation about what he and Draco had been talking about, choosing instead to ask about Luna.

“What the bloody hell was that hug about?” Ron asked incredulously a few minutes later. 

“You know Luna,” said Harry, idly watching Draco walk off up the street. “Malfoy had just apologised to her about having her locked up in his cellar, and she forgave him.”

“You don’t say!” said Ron. Harry turned away from the window and looked at his friends. Hermione was still looking slightly disgruntled.

“So, what’d you get Hermione?” Harry asked brightly in an effort to cheer her up.

“Nothing,” Ron muttered bitterly. “She wouldn’t let me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ronald,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “He wanted to buy me a book but the shop didn’t have any that I wanted. So I suggested he buy me a bar of chocolate instead, but he doesn’t seem to think that it’s good enough for a birthday present. He thinks I’m trying to spare his feelings.”

Harry frowned at her, and she indicated the two Sickles that were still lying - untouched - on the tabletop. Harry understood: Ron’s family was not extremely wealthy, and, to Ron, it must have seemed as though Hermione was trying to prevent him from spending an excessive amount on her. Whether or not this was what Hermione was indeed trying to do, Harry did not know.

“It’s your  _ nineteenth _ ,” Ron declared. “Excuse me for wanting to get you something decent.”

“You don’t need to get me anything!” Hermione protested, pushing her forehead into Ron’s shoulder, then straightening up again. “And if you must, a bar of Honeydukes’ finest chocolate would suffice!”

“I’d just feel lousy if I only bought you a  _ chocolate bar _ .”

“Well,  _ don’t _ , because I would be perfectly happy with it,” Hermione snapped. “I’d also be perfectly happy if you didn’t get me anything at all. I have everything I need, Ron. I’ve got you, and I’ve got Harry - I’m alright.”

Ron finally looked up and met her gaze. “So - so you aren’t taking pity on me or anything?”

_ “No,” _ she said sincerely. “I don’t need anything more from you than … well,  _ you _ .”

Ron looked at her, his eyes round with affection. He dipped his neck slowly and kissed her softly. Harry looked to the floor boredly. When Ron and Hermione broke apart, Ron’s ears were red and Hermione’s dark-skinned cheeks had a slightly rosy tint about them. The three of them walked back to Hogwarts shortly after, Hermione between Ron and Harry, with her arms around them each. It really was a lovely day.

*

The Gryffindors and a few students from other Houses threw Hermione a surprise party the following Friday evening after dinner. It was held in the eighth-year common room, which had been decorated with streamers and glittering coloured lights that hung in mid-air all around the room. Naturally, all of the eighth-years were invited, along with some of the younger students with whom Hermione was friends.

Ginny climbed through the hole behind the tapestry and gaped up at the beautifully lit common room. Luna wandered in behind her. Loud, enthusiastic chatter filled the room, which was so full that Harry had to step over chairs to welcome Luna and Ginny.

“Hi!” he said brightly to them, nearly tripping over an empty bottle of Butterbeer. “Blimey, how is that there already…” He waved his wand and muttered  _ “Evanesco.” _

“Er- there’re drinks over there-” he pointed out the food and drinks on the other side of the room. “Enjoy yourselves! Hermione’s somewhere near the fire with Ron, I think, if you’re looking to wish her a happy birthday.”

They nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Harry stayed where he was for a moment, looking around the room. He caught Draco’s eye, and could have sworn that he had winked at him, but ignored it. Draco was chatting with Pansy, so Harry guessed that she had stopped sulking for now.

Harry found Ron and Hermione, and sat with them for a while, chatting and laughing and enjoying the party. Dean and Seamus appeared after some time, carrying more drinks which they handed out around the small circle of people. After another hour or so, Harry found that he wanted another drink. He asked the others what they wanted and got up, moving back into the thick of the party. Luna and Ginny were dancing in the middle of the crowd, where there was a small clearing that was posing as a dance floor. Luna was swaying aggressively from side to side, making Ginny laugh and nearly snort her Butterbeer out of her nose. Harry smiled fondly at them as he passed and made his way over to the refreshments, where he stuck a sausage roll into his mouth. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was.

“Potter,” came a familiar, drawling voice from behind him. Harry turned and found Draco standing surprisingly close. Harry took a step backwards and could feel the desk on which the drinks and snacks were set up digging into his leg.

“This is quite some party,” said Draco. He was standing so close that Harry could smell the drink on his breath: mostly Butterbeer, but there was a definite whiff of Firewhisky. Draco wasn’t standing up straight, so Harry guessed that he was quite tipsy, if not slightly drunk. He could hardly blame him, as the party was an excellent one and Harry himself was feeling a little tipsy after one too many glasses of Ron’s famous Daisyroot Draught and red currant rum cocktail.

“L-listen,” Draco stammered. “Do you reckon I sh-should apologise to everyone?”

Harry frowned: had they not had this conversation in the Three Broomsticks last weekend? He nodded nonetheless. “Yeah! That sounds like a good idea!”

Draco swayed uncertainly and then said, “R-right then. I best get to it.”

He hurried off, leaving Harry gaping at thin air. Shrugging, Harry turned back to the food and helped himself to another sausage roll. He loaded his plate with a variety of snacks and set it aside while he perused his options for another drink. There was a rather promising golden bowl of what looked like glittering pink punch at the end of the table, sitting in front of assorted bottles of alcohol. He picked up a goblet and poured himself a bit of the punch to taste. He suddenly felt as though all of his worries had melted away, leaving him feeling like he was floating from the sheer amount of happiness coursing through him, uninterrupted. He quickly helped himself to some more punch and drained the goblet, then took some more. It was fascinating. He wondered what on earth was in the drink. He felt as though he would never have to worry about anything ever again. He inhaled another gobletful, as well as all of the food he had piled up on his plate, and then poured himself some more punch before staggering out into the crowd.

Harry found Ron talking to Terry Boot by the spiral staircase. They looked up at him as he walked up to them, grinning broadly.

“Alright, mate?” Ron called to him. Harry opened his mouth to reply but all that escaped past his lips was a quiet wheeze. Ron frowned at him, his eyes moving from Harry to the goblet Harry was holding.

“What are you drinking?” he asked politely, reaching for the goblet, but Harry swerved his arm away and took a long gulp of punch, if that was what it was.

“Harry, you look mental, mate,” Terry laughed. “I think you’re drunk.”

“Not,” Harry said definitively, his voice low and grumbly. Terry, too, tried to snatch the goblet, but Harry moved away again. It was suddenly pulled out his hand, and he whirled around to see Ginny smirking at him.

“What’s this, then?” she grinned, lifting the goblet to her nose and sniffing it. The goblet fell to the floor with a loud  _ CLANG _ as she dropped it, her face painted with disgust.

“EURGH!” she gasped, as Harry dived to the floor, desperate not to let the drink spill, but it was too late. “What  _ is _ that, Harry, it’s  _ ghastly _ !”

Harry glared and then disappeared back into the crowd, muttering angrily about going to get more. Ron, Terry and Ginny stared after him, all three of them absolutely flummoxed.

Harry chose the largest goblet he could find and poured himself more of the wonderful drink, taking a sip and feeling positively delightful. He went to go and look for Hermione, who he found sitting by the fire, talking to …  _ Draco Malfoy? _

“Hello, Harry,” said Hermione, noticing him lurking. “I wondered where you’d go to- Oh, are you alright? You look really drunk; you ought to sit down. What have you been drinking?”

He waved his hand around, unsure of what exactly he was trying to gesticulate. His right hand was clutching the goblet. Hermione eyed it cautiously. “What is that, Harry? Let me see it-”

“NO!” Harry cried, sounding very much like a disgruntled two-year-old. Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide with shock.  

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry, I only want to  _ smell _ it-”

“NO!” Harry repeated, fidgeting desperately so that she was unable to grab the goblet. As he did this, however, a lot of the drink slopped onto his front. Hermione ran a hand through her hair and gave up trying to pry the drink out of Harry’s hand. She turned back to Draco, who had been sitting quietly the entire time.

“What were you saying, Malfoy?” she asked tiredly, her eyes still watching Harry.

“I was apologising,” said Draco, smiling coolly at Harry and taking a sip of his own drink. Harry watched him, his eyes narrowed. “-for being such an incandescent arse to you. I’ve been horrible to you; called you things that - now - I would never even  _ dream _ of saying to anyone… I seek your forgiveness, Granger, and I know I’d never forgive  _ myself _ if I didn’t at least try to make amends with y-you.”

“Well,” said Hermione, her eyes moving off of Harry at last. “I mean, it’s very nice of you to say all that … it’s clear that you’re serious about wanting to move forward and redeem yourself... And I know you and Harry have already made some sort of truce. It  _ is _ nice to see that you’re willing to move on.”

Draco nodded, hoping she was about to forgive him. Something told him there was a very large ‘but’ coming…

“But,” said Hermione, and Draco sighed. “You were  _ quite  _ horrible to me. You and Parkinson. I’m willing to try and forget but you must understand that if I have a go at you or bring something up, it’s only because I’m angry, or used to us being on different sides. Despite all that … I forgive you. I can’t say that I can see your reasons or justifications for your incessant bullying, because there aren’t any-”

“No, there aren’t,” Draco interjected, desperate to plead his case. “There’s no excuse and I am  _ so _ sorry-”

Hermione gave him a look that suggested he would be very sorry should he ever interrupt her again. She went on, calmly, “There is no excuse for  _ any _ of the bullying. But I can see that some of the more  _ recent _ things you’ve done were more because you were forced. That, I can understand. And I forgive you.”

Draco let out an enormous sigh of relief. “Thank you, Granger, I can’t tell you how much it means to me to hear you say that... I’m going to go and get myself another drink, would you like one?”

She shook her head, smiling, and he strode off. Hermione looked back to Harry, who was concentrating very carefully on the ceiling. Hermione gently tugged the goblet out of Harry’s grip, which seemed to have loosened considerably since her last attempt. She took a sip of the liquid and her eyes seemed to glaze over.

“Oh  _ wow _ ,” she whispered, staring at the contents of the goblet in disbelief. “What  _ is _ this, Harry, it’s  _ wonderful _ .”

“I know,” said Harry, sitting upright and finally finding his voice. “I’ve probably had too much. I have absolutely no idea what it is but I’ve never felt so carefree in my life … well - maybe when Moody Imperiused us in fourth-year.”

Hermione chuckled. “I have to find Ron,” she said suddenly, taking another sip. She stood up and rushed away, still carrying Harry’s drink. He pushed himself off the sofa and staggered into the crowd. The music seemed to become even louder as Harry made his way into the clearing in the middle of the partygoers, where Luna was dancing even more aggressively than before.

“Hello, Harry,” she said breathlessly, finally stopping her dance as the song changed.

“Hi, Luna,” he said, trying not to sound as drunk as he was. 

“You’re very drunk,” Luna said at once. 

“It would seem so, hey?” Harry grinned guiltily. “There’s a big bowl of something… I’ve had about six goblets of it … or something.”

“Oh, yes, that drink is quite peculiar, isn’t it? I tasted some a few hours ago; it made me feel very funny. I wonder what it is.”

Harry nodded. There was a sudden loud shout and Hermione and Ron came running onto the makeshift dance floor, followed closely by Ginny and Neville.

“Grab the person nearest to you!” Hermione called out. “And every time you hear the scream, change partners!”

The song changed again and Harry suddenly felt hands on his waist. He looked around to see that Luna had grabbed him and was now guiding him around in a sort of waltz. He followed her lead, moving his body in the same way she was and flapping his arms around when she did. A loud screech filled the air, and Luna flew away from him. She was replaced quickly by Hermione, who was giggling so hard she was almost unable to dance. A few moments passed and then there was another loud yell, and Hermione twirled away, still giggling madly.

Neville flew into Harry’s arms, and the both of them fell apart laughing. It was quite difficult to tell who was worse at dancing, as Neville made a habit of trodding on Harry’s toes while Harry kept stepping too far away and bumping into other dancers, who gave him very nasty looks. Another scream and Neville was replaced by Pansy Parkinson, who hiccuped every time she took a step. Another scream and Harry was dancing with Dean. Another scream: Ginny. Another: Anthony Goldstein. The time between each scream was growing shorter and shorter each time, to Harry’s relief. When yet another scream pierced the air, this time a lot quieter, Harry found himself in the arms of Draco Malfoy.

“Hello, Potter,” Draco smirked as he guided Harry in the dance. 

Harry hiccoughed. “You’re a very good dancer.”

Draco clicked his tongue. “Mother had me take lessons when I was young.”

“Of course she did,” said Harry. He was suddenly very aware of how close together his and Draco’s bodies were. He could feel Draco’s breath on his face as they spun around the dance floor; could see the flecks of blue in Malfoy’s cloudy eyes. Draco was also aware of the proximity: he could see each of Harry’s thick eyelashes; every scar that decorated the dark skin on Harry’s face. Their eyes met and Draco looked away, his pale cheeks flushing with colour.

There hadn’t been another scream, so they continued to move in and around the other partners, waiting for the song to end and avoiding each other’s eyes. Harry felt strangely comfortable, spinning around with Draco Malfoy’s hands on his waist. Although, he did wonder why this turn was  _ much _ longer than the others.

At long last, the song came to an end and they broke apart, both blushing furiously. Another song started up, and Draco confidently took Harry’s waist again. Harry moved away, looking at Draco in alarm.

“J-just one more dance,” he whispered, one hand on Harry’s hips and the other on the small of his back. “Please.”

Harry looked around to see where his friends were, especially Ron: he knew that Ron would probably refuse to speak to him for days if he saw him dancing with Draco Malfoy longer than a turn of Switch. Finally, his eyes found a head of ruffled red hair, and he was surprised to see Ron and Hermione snogging _ very  _ passionately in a corner of the room. Harry hoped the two of them would disappear to one of their rooms, or that Ron was too drunk to even process the fact that Harry was dancing with Draco.

“Okay,” said Harry, turning back to Draco. His head was spinning and he felt like he was going to collapse. He moved closer to Draco, tightening his grip on his waist and resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder. Saying nothing, Draco smirked as he led Harry in a slow dance, not wanting to send either of them over the tipping point, as they were both insanely drunk.

“I like your shirt,” said Harry, lifting his head and staring at the emerald green material.

Draco beamed at him. “Thank you,” he whispered back. “It’s my favourite colour.”

Harry let out a drunken laugh. “Green’s your favourite colour? Why, because of Slytherin?”

Draco smirked. “No,” he said, as the song came to an end. He and Harry parted once more, and were left standing in the middle of the floor, gazing at one another.

“No?” said Harry, swaying slightly where he stood. “Why, then?”

Draco sighed heavily and then said, very coolly, “Your eyes are green,” and walked away.


	8. headache

Harry woke next day with a headache quite unlike any other that he had ever experienced. The pain he felt when he first opened his eyes scared him into thinking his scar was hurting him again, but then he remembered, with a groan, drinking several goblets of that mesmerising drink. In fact, the drink was about the only thing that he could remember.

Harry dragged himself out of bed and slumped into the showers, where he spent a good fifteen minutes under the cold water. He trudged back up to his room, which was still empty, meaning that Ron and Hermione were either upstairs in her room or they had already gone down to breakfast. He pulled on a jumper and a pair of jeans and made his way down to the Great Hall, where he did not find Ron and Hermione, so he sat down between Neville and Ginny at the Gryffindor table.

“My head is killing me,” he said to Ginny as he poured himself a cup of coffee.  
“Mine too,” she groaned, taking a rather savage bite of bacon. “What was that-”

“Don’t bother asking me about anything that happened last night,” Harry told her as he helped himself to a piece of toast. “I can’t remember  _ anything _ . Well, apart from that weird pink punch drink.”

“That’s what I was going to ask you: what was that drink? It smelled like dragon piss and Murtlap essence.”

Harry shrugged and stuffed the now buttered piece of toast into his mouth. “I dunno what it was but it was fucking amazing,” he said thickly.

“And, apparently,  _ very _ strong,” Ginny sipped from her goblet of orange juice. “You really can’t remember anything that happened last night?”

Harry shook his head. “Nope.”

Ginny took another sip of orange juice. “Huh.”

“Why?” said Harry, narrowing his eyes at her. “Did something happen?”

Ginny busied herself with her bacon and eggs. Harry clapped a hand to his mouth, horrified, “I didn’t …  _ kiss _ anybody, did I?”

“No,” Ginny grinned at him. “But you probably would have, if you hadn’t passed out.”

“When did I pass out?” asked Harry, frowning at her. “I don’t remember passing out.”

“You don’t remember  _ anything _ …” Ginny smiled malevolently. “And my lips are sealed. And so are yours, Neville!” She said, rounding on him as Harry began to turn to ask him instead. Harry sighed and stared at his plate of eggs glumly. At that moment, Hermione and Ron arrived.

“My head is killing me,” said Ron. Hermione nodded in agreement, clutching her forehead as she collapsed onto the bench opposite Harry.

“Do either of  _ you _ mind telling me what happened last night?”

They both shook their heads. “Sorry, mate,” said Ron. “I can’t remember anything after Hermione came running up to me with a massive goblet of pink stuff-”

“Wait,  _ you _ had the drink too?” said Harry incredulously. Ron nodded.

“Well, yeah, as I said: Hermione came running up to me and practically begged me to try it; said it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. So I tried a bit … and then drained the whole thing.”

“Yeah, I did the same thing,” said Harry. He turned to Hermione, who had been eating a crumpet quietly. “What about you?”

“Oh, I didn’t have much of that stuff,” she said, setting down the butter knife. “Ron drank the rest of the goblet I’d got from you, and then we were dancing so I didn’t get any more. I still got really drunk, though: when Ron and I went back to my room he brought an entire bottle of Firewhisky with him. It was quite a night.”

Nobody said anything. They were all independently, and silently, groaning over their headaches. Then Harry said, “So, you didn’t see me  _ almost _ snog someone?”

Ron and Hermione frowned at him but shook their heads all the same. Harry threw his hands up, exasperated.

“Great, I have no idea what happened last night, and the people that do know won’t tell me. Brilliant. Fucking ace.”

“I don’t think you’d actually  _ want _ to know…” said Ginny quietly. Harry rounded on her.

“What?”

“Well, I won’t say too much, but I think you’d be much better off  _ not _ knowing what happened last night.”

Harry folded his arms and moodily stared at his unfinished plate of food. Nobody really said much from that point on; they all seemed to want to eat quietly and try to wish their headaches would disappear. At one point, Ginny suggested Hermione charm the pain away, but the idea was trampled on by the fact that Hermione insisted her mind was too foggy to even begin to think about casting a spell.

The day passed by painfully slowly. Harry found that he could not focus on his homework and chose instead to sleep on the sofa by the fire for much of the day. He missed lunch and woke up just in time for dinner. 

Ginny was still refusing to tell him anything about the previous night, and she seemed to have everyone else who could recall the night’s events on her side. He stalked off to bed straight after getting back from dinner, catching Draco Malfoy’s eye as he passed. Draco had also been nursing a nasty hangover, as had Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini.

By the time October rolled around, Harry still didn’t know who he had almost kissed. All through October, he pleaded and bargained with Ginny and the others, begging them to tell him at least  _ something _ that had happened on the night of Hermione’s party, but - out of fear of Ginny hexing them - they wouldn’t budge. 

Harry tried to forget about it all. On the next Hogsmeade weekend, he walked around with Hermione and Ron for a bit and then left them to celebrate their six-month anniversary. He strolled around by himself for a bit, his hands in his pockets. He wandered down to the Shrieking Shack and stared at it sadly, thinking of Lupin and Sirius.

“Happy birthday for tomorrow, Sirius,” he whispered to himself. He pulled out one of the liquorice wands from his Honeydukes bag and chewed it, trying not to think about his godfather. By the time he finished the wand, he had had enough of being near the Shack. He turned to go and started back up the path towards the village, where he ran into Luna. She was accompanied by none other than Draco Malfoy.

“Hi, Harry,” said Luna serenely. She was holding an enormous camera.

“Luna,” said Harry, looking from her to Draco, his brow furrowed. “Malfoy.”

“Hello, Potter,” said Draco, smirking as usual.

“I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“It’s unexpected, isn’t it?” Luna smiled, lifting the camera to her face and snapping a quick photo of Harry and Draco. “But Draco and I have spent quite a bit of time together since he apologised back in September. He’s very nice to me.”

Draco smiled. “I would never have guessed that Luna and I would befriend each other, but I think the unexpected things are the best things, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah…” said Harry absently. Luna took another photo; of the trees this time.

Draco laughed. “Every time  I run into you in Hogsmeade, Potter, you’re alone. Where are Granger and Weasley today?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s their six-month anniversary, so I gave them some space.”

“Well, if you’ve no other plans, would you be interested in accompanying Luna and I to the Three Broomsticks? I’ll buy you a Butterbeer.”

Harry sighed and looked up at Draco. “How could I say no to a free Butterbeer?”

“Excellent,” Draco grinned. “Shall we?” he said to Luna, who nodded. 

“So, Luna,” said Harry as the two of them sat down while Draco bought them drinks. “Where’s Ginny?”

“She’s at Quidditch practice,” said Luna, pulling off her bobble hat. “She’s very stressed about the match next weekend.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I bet. I miss playing. Have you ever tried playing Quidditch, Luna?”

“No, I’m not that bothered about it, to be honest,” she admitted, looking up as Draco squeezed past the other tables, clutching three bottles of Butterbeer.

“Not bothered about what?” Draco asked, sliding into the vacant seat.

“Quidditch- Cheers.” Harry took one of the Butterbeers and opened it.

“Ah, I miss playing Quidditch,” said Draco sadly. “I wonder who’s commentating next week?”

“I am,” stated Luna dreamily. “I’m quite excited.”

“Are you?” Draco frowned at her. “You didn’t mention that to me.”

Luna shrugged. “There’s only so much we can say to one another.”

Harry and Draco exchanged confused looks and then grinned into their Butterbeers. The three of them - probably the unlikeliest triad of drinking mates Harry could have imagined - stayed and chatted in the pub for another hour, and then traipsed through the snow back up to the castle together. Luna parted with them in the Entrance Hall, and Harry and Draco made their way up to the eighth-year common room.

“I must say, it’s really good to see you making up with people. I think you’re a changed man, Malfoy. You seemed to have redeemed yourself well.”

Draco smiled graciously at Harry as he held the tapestry up for him and let Harry pass. “Thank you, Potter. Though I would get by without your approval, it’s nice all the same. I’m glad we’ve grown and become friends. It has been a very pleasant change.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “It has.”

They stood there for a moment, neither of them wanting to part but neither dared to say anything. Hermione suddenly appeared at Harry’s side, a thick book in her arms.

“Hi, Harry. Hello, Malfoy.”

“Granger,” said Draco. Harry frowned at the pair of them.

“You alright, Hermione? What’s up?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. I just need a second opinion with the Ancient Runes homework.”

“But I don’t take Ancient Runes-”

“No, but I do,” said Draco, cutting across Harry and moving around Hermione to peer at the page over her shoulder. He muttered something to himself and Hermione suggested they go and sit down. Harry followed them and slid into the seat beside Ron, who was eyeing Draco and Hermione with suspicion.

“Since when are they okay?” Harry asked quietly, pulling his bag off his shoulders.

“He apologised to her at her birthday party,” Ron whispered back, his tone bitter. “At least, she  _ claims _ he did. I wouldn’t know; I had far too much of that pink stuff.”

Harry laughed. Hermione pulled the book away from Draco and began to flip through the pages. Draco sat back on the sofa and looked at Ron intently, who frowned back.

“Tell me, Weasley,” said Draco coolly. “Would you be at all interested in hearing me apologise for the last seven years?”

Ron shrugged. “I’m listening.”

“First of all, I  _ am _ sorry. Truly. For being rude to you and bullying you and teasing you and mocking you and … just making your life a hell of a lot more difficult. I wish I could go back and undo everything, because, when I think about it, I can’t believe myself and I - I hate myself for what I’ve done to you and to other people. I’m not looking for sympathy, nor am I trying to justify my actions. I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I don’t know what you’re like, because I judged you when we were  _ eleven _ and didn’t give you a chance or ever actually try to get to know you. I wish I had. I’m sorry.”

Ron narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. Hermione and Harry exchanged nervous glances. Draco had leaned forward again so that his shoulders were hunched over, and he was rubbing his palms together nervously.

After what felt like hours, Ron spoke. “I mean, you’re still a git, but … yeah, okay, I forgive you. Thanks, by the way.”

They smiled awkwardly at each other, and Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of relief. Harry had a feeling they had both been expecting a duel to break down. Draco nodded appreciatively and got to his feet, then strode away, cool as ice. Harry found himself staring after him a little longer than he probably should have.


	9. truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, the Quidditch match mentioned at the beginning of the chapter is the first of the season, and therefore set around early November :)

It wasn’t until Gryffindor emerged from their match against Ravenclaw victorious and Harry, Ron and Hermione, went to celebrate in Gryffindor Tower, that Harry found out what Ginny had been hiding from him. Admittedly, the whole thing had completely slipped his mind.

He was getting drinks and food with Neville and had looked around at the crowd cheering around the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Neville looked at him, grinning. “Are you looking for Ginny? Did she finally tell you about you dancing with Malfoy at Hermione’s party? Thank Merlin, I was wondering why she was putting it off for so long. It isn’t even that much of a big deal- Oh, bother.”

He bent down and picked up the fondant fancy that he had just dropped. Harry was staring at a portrait on the wall idly, his eyes widening.

“Neville,” he said quietly. “Did you just tell me what happened?”

“Yeah,” Neville nodded, selecting a new fancy from the table. “It isn’t that huge, is it? I told you, I don’t know what Ginny was playing at-”

Harry set his drink down on the table and rushed out of the Gryffindor common room, speeding down the marble staircase and sprinting down the fourth-floor corridor. He wrenched the tapestry aside and practically dived into the common room, looking around for Draco. Evidently, he was not in the common room. Hoping with all his might that Draco was not in the library, Harry went to open the door to Draco’s dormitory, but it was thrown open before he could even turn the knob. Pansy Parkinson was standing in the doorway, her expression rife with malevolence.

“Potter,” she smirked. “How can I help you?”

“Where’s Malfoy?” he demanded.

She laughed. “In the library. I’m surprised you’re still friends with him … unless you’re looking for him for a duel?”

“Why would I want to duel him?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Pansy chuckled, her dark eyes narrowing evilly.

“Know  _ what _ ?” Harry hissed, impatient.

“Draco isn’t  _ really _ interested in being your friend,” she said smugly. “He hates you, and your stupid friends. He just wanted to give you all a false sense of security because he’s tired of your schoolboy rivalry. He’s not really interested in getting to know you … why would he be? After all these years, do you really think the tension between the two of you would just vanish?”

Harry shook his head. “No… You’re lying.”

Pansy chuckled again. “Why would I be lying? I’m just looking out for you, Potter…”

Harry was so fixated on what Pansy had just told him, and how he had feared this since Malfoy had apologised to him outside the Room of Requirement at the start of the year. He had been fearful that there was no real friendship between them; that Malfoy had an ulterior motive of sorts. Harry was so angry at that moment that the possibility that Pansy could be lying to him didn’t even occur to him. He walked away from Pansy, who watched after him with an evil grin on her pug-like face. Harry burst into his room and flung himself onto the bed shaking with betrayal.  _ Of course Draco hadn’t wanted to be friends…. _ Harry thought to himself.  _ Why on earth would he want to be friends with me? After everything that’s happened between us, is change even possible? Of course not. _

With a sickening pang, Harry remembered what Ginny had said; that he had almost kissed somebody… Then he thought about what Neville had told him, about how he had danced with Draco. Had he almost kissed him? He wasn’t sure if Draco could remember, but he would surely have been disgusted and vented his feelings to his friends; to Pansy. Since the night of the part, he and Draco had grown much closer: they had shared their common interests and had confided in each other the harrowing stories from the war. They had talked about their PTSD and discussed their deepest regrets. Harry had truly felt a friendship blossoming between them. He had been starting to feel grateful that he could consider Draco to be one of his friends; glad that he was in his life. Had he been pretending to be friends with Harry all this time? 

Yes, Harry thought to himself miserably, Draco had just wanted him to look stupid in front of a group of people. That was why he’d pretended to apologise in the first place: to create a false alliance and see how much of a fool he could make out of Harry.

Harry ignored Malfoy next day: he would put up with Malfoy’s fake attempts at being friends no longer. Malfoy continued to try to ask him what was wrong, but Harry could not even bring himself to shout at him. Harry managed to keep this up for a few days, but then, one morning, he strode into the common room and spotted Hermione’s bushy head by the fire and walked over to her, then felt white-hot anger rise in his chest as his eyes landed upon the back of Malfoy’s blond head. He was sitting on the floor a way away from Hermione’s feet, hunched over a roll of parchment.

“Fuck off,” he spat, folding his arms and looking pointedly at Malfoy, who looked around in alarm.

“Harry!” Hermione scolded, frowning at him.

“No no, I deserved that.” Malfoy waved his hand and got to his feet. Hermione stared from Harry to Malfoy, her brow furrowed.

“What’s going on?”

“Malfoy’s a git,” Harry snarled, not taking his eyes off him.

“Potter, please, let me explain-”

“I told you,” said Harry stubbornly. “I’m not interested.”

“I think you are,” Malfoy tried. “Just let me explain what happened and then you can make your judgement-”

“I’d rather eat Hermione’s hair.”

“It’s not what you think, Potter!” said Malfoy exasperatedly. “Please, just hear me out!”

Harry shook his head. He looked at Hermione, who was still extremely confused. “Is it time for lunch, yet?”

She nodded. “Great. Let’s go,” he said quickly, turning on his heel and marching out of the common room. Hermione hurried to keep up with him.

“What was that about?” she asked him as they thundered down the steps.

“Where’s Ron?” Harry implored, ignoring Hermione.

“Er - I think he’s at lunch already,” Hermione replied irritably. “Harry, what happened between you and Malfoy? You were okay yesterday-”

“And now we’re not. I don’t know why I thought he could ever change.”

They crossed the Entrance Hall and wandered down the Gryffindor table, where they found Ron with Dean and Seamus. He looked up at them brightly as they sat down opposite him.

“Hiya,” he grinned. “You finish your Ancient Runes stuff with Malfoy?”

“Not quite,” Hermione trembled. “Harry interrupted us.”

Ron turned to Harry, who was loading mashed potatoes onto his plate. “You alright? I would have woken you up, but the door was locked. I assumed you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Fanks,” said Harry thickly, shovelling food into his mouth. 

“Harry,” Hermione sighed, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “Will you tell us what’s going on with you and Malfoy? What happened? Why are you upset with him?”

“I’m not upset with him,” Harry lied, taking a long drink of pumpkin juice. “I just hate him.”

“Wait- You hate him? But you were fine with him the other d-!”

Harry sighed and exclaimed. “Yeah, well, now I’m not!”

“But  _ why _ ?” Hermione asked again.

“There was … a misunderstanding.”

“With what?”

“Our friendship.”

“How?”

“It was a lie.”

“What?” Ron exchanged curious glances with Hermione. “What do you mean?”

“I thought he was telling the truth when he apologised to me; when he apologised to all of us. I thought he was genuinely interested in becoming a better person and redeeming himself. I thought he really wanted all of us to be friends with him.”

“And?”

“And I was wrong.”

Hermione groaned out of irritation as she swallowed her mouthful of cottage pie. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry, can you stop being so cryptic and just tell us what happened?”

Ron and Harry stared at her, shocked. Harry quickly turned back to his food and ate half of what was on his plate before he spoke again. “I found out what happened that night.”

There was a loud and sudden sound of metal on ceramic as Hermione suddenly cut clean through her Yorkshire pudding. She looked at him in alarm, as did Ron.

“You did? Really?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Neville accidentally told me.”

“What happened, then?” asked Ron impatiently.

“It happened while we were playing Switch, according to Neville. It’s stupid; I can’t believe Ginny, to be honest. Anyway,  _ apparently _ , I danced with Malfoy.”

Ron and Hermione looked at him boredly. “Is that it?”

Harry nodded again. “That’s it. I know, it’s unbelievably dull, isn’t it? I had half-expected Ginny to tell me I’d danced around the common room naked or something.”

Ron and Hermione laughed. “So … why are you so pissed with Malfoy? Surely not because you found out that you danced with him?”

Harry shook his head. “No, not because of that. After Neville told me what had happened, I went to go and share it with Malfoy, but when I got to his door, I ran into Pansy instead. And she told me  _ all  _ about how he’s only been pretending to be friends for the last few months.”

Ron and Hermione’s jaws dropped. Ron stared at Harry, so shocked that his eyes grew wide. Hermione ran a hand through her hand and muttered to herself. Harry ate some more food, waiting patiently for his friends to process what he had just said.

“He was  _ pretending _ ?” Ron asked incredulously. Harry nodded.

“Apparently, yeah.”

“But - why would he pretend?” Hermione asked. She sounded as though she had just gone over everything her head and something didn’t add up. Harry shrugged, pouring himself some more pumpkin juice.

“Don’t you want to find out?” she implored.

“I don’t want to talk to him at all.”

“But aren’t you curious?”

“Of course I am, Hermione, but at the moment, I reckon if I talked to Malfoy for longer than five minutes, I’d hex him into oblivion.”

Ron was staring at his helping of trifle, still in shock. “I don’t get it,” he muttered. “I don’t get what he could possibly gain from pretending to be friends with us… I mean, why not just ignore us this year?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, mate, but can we drop it now? I don’t really want to think about Malfoy.”


	10. listen

For the remainder of the month, Harry avoided Malfoy as much as possible. Ron and Hermione helped him where they could, taking it in turns to pair up with Harry in lessons instead of with each other to eliminate the risk of Harry having to work with Malfoy again; backing Harry up with an alibi when Malfoy enquired his whereabouts. For many weeks, Harry was successful in managing to avoid talking to Malfoy for longer than five minutes. The few occasions where they had spoken had been limited to discussing classwork and ignoring Malfoy’s insistent attempts to ask why Harry was ignoring him. Harry couldn’t see why Malfoy was so bothered about it; surely this made things a lot easier for Malfoy, as he now did not have to feign friendship with Harry?

The weather grew colder and harsher as November turned into December. The Hogwarts grounds were coated in a thick blanket of snow and glistening icicles clung to the exterior of the castle. As the eighth-years walked from class to class, they watched the Christmas decorations being put up all around the halls of the castle. A spectacular tree had been brought into the eighth-year common room, and the students decided to make a day out of dressing it with the baubles and other assorted decorations that had been left under the tree in two large boxes.

Everyone held their breaths while Dean tried to levitate Seamus up to the top of the tree in order to perfectly place the glowing star, and laughed when he failed miserably and Seamus crashed onto the pile of cushions supplied by Hannah Abbott. Harry was thoroughly enjoying his afternoon with his friends, but he couldn’t help noticing that Malfoy was absent.

It had been just over four weeks since he had learned the truth about the night of Hermione’s birthday party, and admittedly, Harry was feeling a lot less angry towards Malfoy, and felt that he would be a lot better at stomaching his fury so that he could talk with Malfoy for longer than five minutes. He had actually been hoping that Malfoy would approach him while he had been decorating the tree. But Malfoy wasn’t even sitting out and watching, at least overseeing the season’s excitement. Harry’s heart sank a little, to his surprise, and he put down the tinsel he had been trying to untangle. 

He looked around and saw that Pansy, Blaise and Theo Nott were all chatting animatedly while they levitated baubles onto the tree. After checking to make sure that nobody was watching him, Harry tiptoed across the common room and darted down the corridor leading to many of the eighth-year dormitories, including his own.

He lifted his hand, stopping just before his knuckles came into contact with the wood. It occurred to him that, if Malfoy really was in there, they would talk. Harry would most likely have to listen to Malfoy’s explanation as to why he had pretended to make amends with Harry... He took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles on the door.

There was no reply. Harry knocked again; still no answer. He pushed open the door slowly and took a few tentative steps into the room. What little light left outside dimly illuminated Pansy and Malfoy’s beds. Something on Malfoy’s bedside cabinet caught his eye, and Harry toed through some of the mess on the floor. He bent down and picked up what looked like a polaroid. Moving over to the window and squinting at it, Harry realised it was one of the photos that Luna had taken of them on their last Hogsmeade trip. Harry stared down at the photo, watching himself laughing and walking alongside Malfoy through the snow. He looked happier than he had felt in weeks, and, Harry noticed, so did Malfoy. Since he had fallen out with him, Harry had tried not to look at Malfoy in passing or in classes, but when had, he had seen that Malfoy looked as depressed as Harry felt. But in Luna’s photo, they were both grinning from ear to ear and laughing without a care in the world. The tip of Malfoy’s nose was pink from the cold, as were his cheeks, and there was snow in Harry’s hair.

“What are you doing?” came a quiet voice from behind him. Harry turned, the photo still in his hand, and found himself face-to-face with Malfoy. He was carrying a stack of books; he had obviously been in the library.

“Sorry…” said Harry, his voice just as quiet. “I was - I was looking for you.”

“Me? There’s a surprise.” Malfoy scoffed, setting the books down on the surface of his chest of drawers. He moved out of the doorway and sat on the end of his bed. Feeling out of place standing up, Harry sank onto the bed beside him. 

Malfoy’s eyes darted to the photo in Harry’s hands. “I love that photo. It reminds me of … happier times. That was a lovely day.”

Harry nodded. “It was... Makes me think about how much fun we had. It was before - well - you know.”

“Actually, I don’t,” said Marry, and Harry laughed humourlessly. “Potter, please, tell me why you’ve been so determinedly avoiding me.”

“Okay. I think I’ve had more than enough time to marinate in my anger.”

Malfoy stared at him, clearly surprised that Harry had agreed. Harry took a deep breath. “Pansy told me the truth.”

“The truth?” Malfoy cocked his head to the side. “What truth?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Drop it, Malfoy, she told me everything.”

“I don’t understand-”

“Don’t you? Let me explain it to you, then,” Harry seethed. Anger was bubbling up inside his chest, and he made no effort to suppress it. “Pansy told me the truth about how you weren’t really interested in being friends with me, or with Hermione, or Ron, or anyone that you ‘made up with’ since the start of term. It was all some huge lie, and you’ve been caught out. Pansy told me, and I relayed that information to everyone else. We’re all stunned as to how we could have been so foolish as to think  _ you _ were capable of change; of actually wanting to redeem yourself and apologise.”

There was something in the emphasis that Harry put into the word ‘you’ that stung Draco more than anything else he said. He did not dare interrupt Harry; not when he was as angry as he was now. Draco was angry too - only at Pansy. He could not believe that she hated Draco’s idea of apologising to everyone so much that she had fed Harry lies like this.

Draco glanced up at Harry, who was glaring at him. Draco’s pale grey eyes looked to the floor again, and he drew a long, shaky breath. “I understand that you’re angry-”

“Do you?” Harry snapped.

Draco looked at him, but refused to meet Harry’s gaze. “Yes, I do. And I’d appreciate if you would shut your mouth for one second and actually  _ listen _ to what I’m saying.”

Harry was silent, and Draco’s eyes widened in surprise: he had expected Harry to put up a bit more of a fight before shutting up like that. Still, he could not complain.

“Right,” Draco sighed. “Well, first of all - er - Pansy  _ lied _ to you. I don’t care how much you want to believe her, or if you think I’m lying right now…. I’m not lying; I never was. MY apology and my efforts to make amends with you were sincere, Potter. The same goes for all of your friends. I don’t understand why you listened to Pansy straight away and didn’t ask me first, choosing instead to ignore me for - how long’s it been - a month?

“Why in the name of  _ Merlin’s saggy balls _ would I go to such lengths to  _ pretend _ to befriend you? If I hated you as much as Pansy’s made you think I do, surely I’d just ignore you? Don’t get me wrong, I can see why you thought she was being honest, given our past and everything. I just wish you could have  _ realised _ that I want to be a better person.”

Harry nodded sheepishly. He felt stupid, now that he knew the truth; the  _ real _ truth. He wished he hadn’t overreacted so quickly, or that he had taken the time to consider everything. 

“So ... you aren’t pissed off me with me any more?” Draco enquired tentatively.

Harry shook his head, laughing again. “No, we’re alright. Now that I know the truth, I feel like I was a bit over the top…”

“Well, I  _ did _ try to tell you-”

“Oh, fuck off,” Harry grinned, picking up one of Draco’s pillows and softly hitting him in the face with it. Draco laughed and tossed it back, knocking Harry’s glasses off his face.

“Yeah, in hindsight I  _ was _ a bit dramatic about it all…” Harry nodded. “Sorry I didn’t listen to you sooner.”

Draco shrugged. “You were angry; I can understand that.”

They didn’t say anything for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from the common room. Harry’s eyes were watching the photograph again; he realised, with a slight pang in his chest as he watched him and Draco laughing together, how much he had missed Draco’s company. He looked away from the photograph and up at Draco, who looked away hastily in an attempt to mask the fact that he had been watching Harry intently. Harry’s hands dropped the photo, which fell to the floor, and moved to Draco’s knee. Draco looked at him, and their eyes met. For one, fleeting moment, Harry felt as though he and Draco were alone in the castle. A strange feeling was tickling Harry’s chest; a feeling he had never experienced before, but it was gone as quickly as it had arrived, for a pair of eighth-years sprinted past Draco’s bedroom door, causing Harry and Draco to jump apart.

Harry slid off the bed and landed on the cool stone floor, feeling colour rushing into his face. Draco stood up offered his hand to Harry, who took it graciously. He was surprised at how warm Draco’s fingers were. Draco lifted him to his feet and jerked his hand away at once. The sun had set completely, and the only light in the room came from the corridor, but even in the darkness, Harry could see that Draco’s cheeks were a little rosier than they had been before. 

“Well…” Draco mumbled, running a hand through his messy blond hair.

“I should get back,” Harry said quickly, seeing that Draco was unsure of what to say.

Draco nodded and Harry crossed the room, striding through the door. He turned and smiled at Draco. “Thank you for … being sincere.”

Draco smiled back weakly. “Thanks for hearing me out. Even if it did take you a month.”

Harry laughed and moved away from the door, walking down the corridor and finding the tree still missing decorations on one side. One of the boxes lay empty on the floor and the students were dotted around the common room; they had clearly abandoned the task of decorating the tree and were now lazing around, chatting quietly. Harry wondered over to where Ron and Hermione were sitting by the windows overlooking the grounds.

“Where’ve you been?” Ron asked as Harry sat down opposite him and Hermione.

“Malfoy,” said Harry quietly. Ron gaped at him and Hermione lurched forwards out of Ron’s grip.

“You - you weren’t  _ fighting _ were you?” she asked fearfully.

Harry shook his head. “Nope. Quite the opposite really.”

Ron raised his eyebrows at him. “You made up with him?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I listened to his side of the story.”

“And?”

“Pansy lied. Malfoy really did want to make up with us.”

“I  _ knew _ it was odd for him to put such an effort into pretending to be our friends! I  _ knew _ something didn’t add up!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re really clever… Tell us something we don’t know,” Ron grinned, and Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm as he and Harry roared with laughter. Harry moved closer to the window and stared out at the frosty grounds and shivered. The only thing he could think about was the warmth of Draco’s fingers.


	11. parted

Nobody in the castle paid much attention in lessons for the next week; the Christmas holidays were almost upon them and, after an agonisingly long term, all anybody wanted to do was escape the castle and return to their families.

After dinner on the penultimate day of term, Harry dragged himself up to the library to complete his Potions essay that was, annoyingly, due next day. He pulled several volumes on the subject of healing ingredients down off the shelves and carried them to one of the desks.

“Potter,” said a voice from behind him a half hour later. Harry had finally finished and was reading through the essay for errors. The chair beside him was pulled from under the desk and Draco sat down beside him. He peered at one of the books Harry had been referencing and smirked at him.

“Tell me, do you _ever_ finish your homework with time to spare?”

“Yes!” Harry exclaimed, setting down his parchment on the desk. “I’ve finished this, and we don’t have Potions for another-” he looked at his watch. “-nine hours!”

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. He sat quietly for a few minutes while Harry proofread his essay. Harry wasn’t sure if he had got all the uses of moonstone correct, but neither did Draco, so Harry packed his things away, saying he’d check with Hermione later.

“So,” said Draco conversationally. “Have you any plans for the break?”

Harry shook his head glumly. “No. Hermione’s going to see her parents, and Ron and Ginny are going home.”

“Don’t you usually go with them?”

“Yeah, but … this is their first Christmas without Fred.”

“So?”

Harry looked at him. “Well, it’s my fault he’s dead, isn’t it?”

“Don’t say that,” Draco snapped. “Don’t you ever say that.”

“But it’s true!” Harry sighed. “If it wasn’t for me, Voldemort wouldn’t have-”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

Harry looked at Draco woefully. “I just - I can’t help but feel guilty that he’s gone.”

“I know, but I’m sure that none of _them_ blame you. You shouldn’t have to stay here on your own for Christmas because you think it was your fault. I can’t think of a single person who would blame you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. He leaned back in his chair. “Are you going home, then?”

Draco nodded. “More likely that I’ll go than I won’t. My mother wants to see me, and I’d like to see her too, but my father’ll be there too and he’s … less invested in me. My parents love each other ... very much, but sometimes I fear that I’m what stands in the way of them being happy together. They nearly always fight about me; they want different things for me.”

Draco hadn’t expected to launch into his family life so carelessly, but he felt that he could tell Harry anything without judgement.

“You shouldn’t think that way,” said Harry quietly. “Even if they do have different opinions on what you should do in the future, I’m sure you aren’t _standing in the way of their happiness_. They love you.”

“Well, I don’t doubt that my mother does but my father has a peculiar way of showing it.” Draco sighed heavily. “I just don’t want to go home and have to listen to them arguing.”

“Why don’t you try to sit down with them and have a civil conversation? Why don’t you suggest that you want to have a say in your own future?”

“I really don’t think it’ll make much difference; they don’t listen to what I say.”

“Well, they ought to!”

Draco shrugged, and Harry said, “I’m sure it’ll be a lot better for you to go home and face it all sooner rather than later.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Draco nodded. “What about you? Do you think you’ll talk to Weasley about staying with him over the holidays?”

“I don’t know. I can’t help but feel out of place around them all now that … well, you know.”

“Just ask,” Draco insisted. He lifted his hand and rested it on top of Harry’s arm. Harry jumped slightly at the contact, but relaxed. He’d been thinking about Draco’s warm hand since their last conversation and was silently contented when he felt it again.

They left the library and walked back to the common room together, taking a shortcut through a dusty passageway behind a portrait of a group of wizards playing Exploding Snap. When they climbed behind the tapestry, Draco said to Harry, “Don’t forget to check with Granger about those moonstones! And ask Weasley about the holidays!”

Harry watched him as he crossed the room and sat down beside Pansy and Theo. After a moment, he remembered that he was standing in the middle of the common room, and he quickly hurried over to where Ron was sitting with Hermione.

“You’re always off by yourself,” Hermione observed as he sat down beside her.

“What?”

“Oh, I just - I noticed that it always seems to be Ron and me sitting in here and then you come in and join us for a little bit before going to bed. I was only saying that you’re off by yourself all the time.”

“I’m not always by myself. Sometimes I’m with Ginny, or Luna, or…-”

“Malfoy.” Ron chimed in, not looking up from his star chart. Harry felt himself blushing, but Hermione didn’t mention it.

“Well, I - it’s because I don’t want to intrude upon your time together.”

Hermione laughed. “Oh, Harry, don’t worry about that. We have more than enough time together. We like spending time with you too!”

Harry shrugged. “Will you check that I’ve got the use of moonstone right in my Potions essay?”

She nodded, and he fished it out of his bag and handed it to her. “Hey, Ron,” he mumbled, and Ron looked up.

“Yeah?”

“Could I - would it be okay if I - if I-” he trailed off nervously, refusing to meet Ron’s eyes. “I think I’m going to stay here for the break,” Harry mumbled at last.

“What?” said Ron and Hermione together, Hermione snapping up from behind Harry’s essay.

“Yeah, I think it’d be better if I stayed… You know, give you and your family some space…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re coming,” said Ron, turning back to his star chart as though Harry would have to agree with him. This was not the case, however, and Harry pressed on, “No, I think I’ll stay. I’ll come with you for Easter. I just think you and the others should be by yourselves this time.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Harry shook his head. “I’ve already made up my decision,” he said firmly. “I’m not going.”

“But - but there’s nobody else staying!” said Hermione desperately.

“You’re going to your parents’ place anyway!” Harry shot back, and she went pink.

“She’s right, though,” Ron nodded. “I’d feel bad if you were stuck here by yourself-”

“Don’t worry about me!” Harry assured them both. “I’ll be okay on my own. I spent ten years of my life on my own, remember? And I was fine-”

“You were not,” said Hermione sadly. “You were neglected and underfed and-”

“My point is-” Harry interrupted her. “I’ll be alright here. That’s my final word. Don’t try to change my mind because it won’t happen.”

*

On Saturday morning, Harry walked down to breakfast with Ron. They met Hermione in the Great Hall, where she was sitting with Luna, Ginny and Neville.

“Are you going home, too, Luna?” Harry asked her conversationally.

“Oh, yes, Daddy wants to show me something that’s been growing in our garden. I’m quite excited.”

Harry nodded and loaded his plate with bacon and eggs. The six of them ate and chatted, and then headed into the Entrance Hall, where everyone’s but Harry’s trunk stood waiting. They stood around for a while, waiting for the carriages to arrive. When Draco and some other Slytherins came out of the Great Hall, he caught Harry’s eye and motioned for him to come over to him. Harry drifted away from his friends and met with Draco at the other side of the enormous Entrance Hall.

“Everything sorted out okay then?” Draco asked him.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I’m staying here.”

“Weasley was okay with that?”

“No,” Harry scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Because he knows - like me - that it is _not_ your fault that his brother is dead.”

Harry didn’t say anything. At that moment, the great oaken front doors were thrown open and the students began clamouring to move their trunks out to the carriages. Harry made a sudden weird movement as though he was about to hug Draco, but changed his mind instantly and tried to cover it up by shrugging the sleeves of his robes up his arms. Draco raised an eyebrow at him as Harry’s arms snapped back to his sides and the sleeves rolled down again. Harry was extremely grateful that Ron chose that moment to hiss at him to hurry up.

“Well, we’d better go,” Harry declared, and Draco nodded, walking alongside Harry across the Entrance Hall. He reached his trunk and turned to Harry.

“Merry Christmas,” Harry offered brightly.

“And you,” Draco smiled. They lingered for a moment, just smiling at each other.

“HARRY!” Ron bellowed from where he stood by the doors. Harry looked away, blushing, and rushed across the Hall to see Ron and Hermione off.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Harry nodded sadly. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s a bit late now, isn’t it?”

Ron shrugged. “You could always just borrow clothes.”

Harry hugged Hermione goodbye. “I’ll see you in January,” he said to her as she climbed into the carriage. Most of the students at Hogwarts could see the Thestrals now, Harry realised with a slight pang. He turned to Ron and hugged him.

“Say hi to your parents from me,” he smiled.

Ron raised an eyebrow at him. “They’ll probably write. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mum sent you a Howler for not turning up at King’s Cross with me and Ginny.”

Harry shrugged. “I think you need the space-”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Harry shook his head. “You need to be with your family.”

“Come off it, mate, _you’re_ my family too.”

They grinned at each other, and Harry pushed Ron into the carriage, waving at Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Neville, who were already sitting comfortably inside. He closed the door behind Ron and watched, waving, as they set off down the road. Harry waved until they rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.


	12. separate

Draco arrived at his parents’ manor house with an awful sense of foreboding in his chest. He was greeted at the front door by his mother, who nearly knocked him over with the force of her hug. Draco found this extremely odd, as she was usually much more composed and hardly ever hugged her son.

“Hello, Mother,” said Draco. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Narcissa replied in a strained voice. 

Draco looked at her anxiously. “Is Father treating you well?”

Narcissa nodded quickly and ushered her son inside. Draco waved his wand and his trunk followed him into the house. He held his mother’s hand as she guided him through the living room into the dining room, where Draco’s father was sitting at the head of an impressive mahogany table.

“Ah, Draco,” he said in a low, hoarse voice. Draco pulled a seat out for his mother at the opposite end of the table and sat down beside her.

“What’s the meaning of this, Father?” Draco asked, his own voice cold and drawling. Something told him he would not be smiling until he returned to Hogwarts; until he saw Harry again.

“Your mother and I wanted to speak with you,” Lucius explained, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “In regards to you, your well-being, and your future.”

Draco looked to his mother for support, but she was staring resolutely at the table.

“My well-being?” Draco snorted, staring coldly at his father. “You’ve never given a damn about my well-being before, why should you start now?”

“Do not speak to me like that,” said Lucius harshly. “Don’t speak as though you can read my mind-”

“I don’t need to read your mind, Father, I know you well enough. You’ve never cared about me before and I see no reason for you to care about me now.”

“That is not true!” Lucius hissed, getting to his feet angrily. “I care about you more than anything in this world! If I didn’t care about you, Draco, I wouldn’t bother with you. I would ignore you and let you do as you please. Don’t speak of what you do not know, boy.”

“See!” Draco exclaimed, pointing at Lucius. “That! Calling me ‘boy’! That is why, as far as I’m concerned, you don’t care about me! That’s why I’ve spent most of my life under the impression that my own father does not love me!”

Lucius settled back into his chair, sighing deeply. “I am sorry for that, my son, but everything I do is for you! For your mother! You two are my reason for living! Do you have any idea what it was like in Azkaban? Do you know how awful it was? Do you know how  _ painful _ and  _ difficult _ it was to cling onto life? Do you know what got me through it? The thought of you and your mother, safe and well!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Forgive me if I spare you my sympathy.”

Narcissa spoke up suddenly. “Stop arguing! Lucius, if you love your son, show him!”

Lucius sighed again. “Very well. Draco, how has your term back at Hogwarts been?”

“Incredible,” Draco replied sarcastically. “I’ve been having the time of my life! It’s been  _ fantastic _ having to deal with PTSD and depression and the scathing looks from most of the other students! It’s been  _ amazing _ trying to apologise to people and get them to see that I am not just some bullying schoolboy any more! That I am capable of change and looking to redeem myself!”

He was shaking with fury as he spat the words at his father. His neat blond hair had fallen in front of his face as he half-shouted down the table. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged worried glances but said nothing. Draco looked from his mother to his father and let out an exasperated roar of anguish.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! YOU DON’T HAVE TO FACE THEM! YOU CAN SIT IN HERE ALL DAY EVERYDAY AND PRETEND YOU DON’T EXIST! I’M THE ONE WHO ACTUALLY HAS TO GO AND FACE PEOPLE AFTER EVERYTHING!”

“Draco, we have to see them too-” Lucius began, but Draco interrupted him.

“I am  _ eighteen years old! _ I shouldn’t have to deal with this! I understand that I could have been a better person and that I didn’t have to bully everyone in my time at Hogwarts, but it didn’t help that  _ you two were personal servants of Voldemort! _ You have no idea what it was like- no, what it  _ is _ like to hear people whispering about me; to have to deal with the entire school knowing who I am and who my parents are and what our family has done.”

“I know it’s hard-”

“NO YOU DON’T!” Draco bellowed. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA!”

“You don’t think this has been hard for us too?” Narcissa snapped suddenly. Draco turned to look at her, his face contorted with anger and surprise.

“You don’t think it’s been difficult for your father and I to go about our lives and try to move on from the past?” Narcissa went on. “It’s not just you who has suffered, my love, and I  _ know _ that you are young but people whisper about us too! I know it’s hard to deal with, at your age, and I am sorry that you do have to deal with it, darling, but you must realise that your father and I were running out of options! We either rejoined the Death Eaters when the Dark Lord resurfaced, or we died! And if - by some miracle - he didn’t kill us, he would surely kill you instead! I don’t know what I would do myself if any harm ever came to you…”

Draco scoffed. “You say it like you didn’t believe in everything Voldemort stood for; like you didn’t feel the same way about non-Purebloods! You were quite comfortable in his ranks, and you know it!”

“Do not speak to your mother as though you disagreed! You felt just the same way about Muggle-borns and Pureblood superiority! It doesn’t matter if you’ve changed your mind about it, because that’s what you believed at the time in question!”

Draco did not respond to this, as he knew it was true. He had, on multiple occasions, called people Mudbloods, and he could not undo this. He stared at his father, whose face was white as his hair and shining with sweat. Draco looked at his mother, who eyed him back with an expression of sadness.

“Fine,” said Draco at last. “I accept that.”

Lucius looked triumphant for a second, and then remembered that his son had just screamed down the table at him. “Draco-”

“I don’t want to be here,” said Draco quietly. “I want to go back to Hogwarts.”

Lucius laughed humourlessly. “Don’t be ridiculous, this is your home.”

“Unfortunately,” Draco grumbled. “But I have no desire for it to be so any longer.”

“Listen to us, Draco, hear us out!” Lucius pleaded. Draco shook his head. “I am your father!” Lucius added angrily.

“I don’t care,” said Draco simply. He looked to his mother. “Mother is the only person who has ever made me truly feel like I am loved. Although I doubt it will happen, as I know how much you care for each other, know that if you ever hurt her, I will kill you.”

Narcissa stared at her son, unsure of how to react. Draco left the room and returned a moment later, his trunk levitating in the air behind him.

“By the way,” he said, a small smirk creeping at his lips. “I’m gay.”

Lucius let out a noise that made him sound very much like a disgruntled Hippogriff. Draco grinned triumphantly, avoiding his mother’s eye. “And,” he continued. “I’m in love.”

“In love?” Narcissa spluttered, unable to disguise the excitement in her voice. “With who?”

Draco grinned wider still, staring right at his father; looking him in the eyes. “Harry Potter,” he said, and with that, he Disapparated, leaving his parents gaping at the spot where he had just stood. 


	13. together

Harry had been enjoying his day. None of the other eighth-years were staying behind for the holidays, leaving Harry with the common room to himself. He had done a fair bit of homework and was now rereading  _ Flying with the Cannons _ by the fire, cosy in the hand-knitted jumper that Mrs Weasley had given him two years prior.

He had been trying not to think too much of how lonely the holidays were going to become. Although he was fine on his own today, Harry doubted very much that he would remain so after a few weeks without his friends. Part of him wished that he had given in and accompanied Ron and Ginny to the Burrow. 

He was just pushing this thought to the back of his mind when the fire roared beside him and a trunk flew out of it, narrowly missing Harry’s head as it shot to the other side of the common room. Harry looked back to the fire, and the trunk was followed by a long-legged, dusty, pink-faced Draco Malfoy.

“Draco,” Harry breathed, throwing his book aside. It was the first time he’d called him Draco out loud, even though he had been Draco to him for a while… Harry stood up and looked at Draco, seeing at once his eyes were red and puffy, and tear tracks stained his blotchy cheeks; he’d been crying, and not very long ago.

“What happened?” he asked, putting his hands on Draco’s elbows to steady him as he shook violently. Harry steered him over to the sofa and sat him down, his hands not leaving Draco’s arms. 

“What happened?” he asked again. Draco looked at Harry, his mercury-grey eyes round with fear and swimming with fresh tears. Harry impulsively pulled Draco into a hug, completely forgetting that Draco was not one of the friends who had stood by him for seven years. That didn’t matter; in that moment, all that mattered to Harry was making sure Draco was okay.

Harry felt Draco sob into his neck and instinctively tightened his hug. Harry inhaled deeply and savoured the scent on Draco’s neck; expensive cologne that smelled faintly of old wood … perhaps cedar and bergamot. Draco suddenly pulled away, hastily wiping his tears away and trying to pretend he hadn’t been sobbing into Harry’s jumper.

“Draco…” Harry sighed, moving his hand into Draco’s and interlocking their fingers. Draco didn’t protest, but refused to look at Harry, though Harry suspected this had less to do with the fact that they were holding hands and more to do with him crying. Harry stared at their hands and couldn’t help but smile weakly. That tickly feeling he had felt after forgiving Draco was back in his chest…

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, and Harry looked up. Draco’s face was even more tear-stained now, and his grey eyes were shining in the firelight. “I’m sorry for breaking down like this…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry offered, and Draco shook his head.

“Not just yet. I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Harry asked tentatively.

Draco hesitated and then nodded slowly. Hands still intertwined, they rose from the sofa and strode out of the common room, walking in silence to Draco and Pansy’s dormitory. Draco let go of Harry’s hand and pushed the door open. Through the window, the frosty grounds were dark, and Harry pointed his wand at the lamp on the table between the two bedside cabinets. The lamp flickered into life and cast a dim light over the room. Draco got into his bed without changing, for his clothes were still in his trunk, and pulled the covers over himself, apparently shivering from the cold. Harry stood awkwardly for a moment, hovering between the beds.

Draco motioned to Pansy’s bed. “You can sleep there if you want,” he whispered. Harry nodded and sat down on the end of Pansy’s bed, hundreds of thoughts flying through his mind. He watched Draco for a moment, who had his back to Harry. Harry hoped that he was asleep, but then, in the quiet of the room, he heard a sniffle from the other side of the dormitory and, with a slight pang in his chest, realised that Draco was crying again.

Harry refused to lie down until he was sure that Draco had stopped crying. It was a while, but when the room was filled with an eerie silence once more, Harry kicked off his trainers and crawled under the duvet. It felt odd to be lying there, in Pansy Parkinson’s bed with Draco Malfoy sleeping a mere two metres away. Unusual as it was, Harry felt strangely comfortable. He smiled slightly, realised that he was not going to be so alone after all.

*

Harry was stumbling through the ruins of the castle, stopping to look over the ramparts at the ongoing battle below. Flashes of light spun in every direction, bouncing off the crumbled stone and reverberating off the slumped figures on the ground. Harry’s heart was racing as he scanned the crowd of fighters for his friends. His eyes landed upon Ron’s bright red hair in time to see a Killing Curse hit him square in the chest. Harry gripped the wall as he watched Ron collapse onto the floor and join the countless bodies of students and Death Eaters. Harry cried out but no sound passed his lips. He watched as Hermione appeared from the other side of the courtyard, sending curse after curse at the Death Eater who had just killed Ron. She was so intent on avenging Ron that she did not notice the mass of enormous black spiders creeping along the ground towards her. Harry seemed to be watching in slow motion as Hermione took aim, but her arm was jerked violently upwards as one of the spiders charged at her, knocking her out from behind the knees and sending her flying backwards. Her head hit the stone with an ear-splitting crack, and she did not stir.

Harry was suddenly walking through the bodies, and the fighters disintegrated before his eyes. He avoided looking at the faces of the dead as he made his way towards Hermione, tears spilling down his cheeks. A voice suddenly called out to him, breaking the eerie silence like a whip cracking through the air.

“It’s your fault,” said the voice, and Harry whirled around to see Neville’s corpse staggering towards him, an arm outstretched and a finger pointing accusingly at Harry. He did not sound like Neville, and his eyes were vacant and blank. Harry forced himself to look away, crying harder than ever, but more and more of the bodies were getting to their feet, the blood on their wounds still fresh and the looks in their eyes empty. They all crept slowly towards Harry, pointing at him with cold, dead fingers.

“It’s your fault,” they said in unison, their voices monotonous and impassive. Harry shook his head, his eyes misted by his tears.

“It’s your fault,” they said again, and Harry screamed. He recognised Luna and Ginny, Dean and Seamus, Kingsley and Lupin…

“We are dead for you,” said a lone voice from behind Harry, and he turned to see Ron and Hermione standing beside one another, their gazes just as void and expressionless as everyone else’s. 

Harry shook his head, pleading desperately. “No…” he said, his voice shaking. “No, please...”

“You are a coward, Harry Potter,” said a squeaky voice, and Harry looked down to see Dobby the house-elf glaring up at him. Shedding more and more tears with every shaky breath that Harry took, he forced himself to look away from Dobby, and found that Ron was standing right in front of him.

“We died for nothing,” he said. “ _ You _ are nothing.”

Harry felt the bodies closing in on him, and Harry clapped his hands around his ears, screaming terribly as their cold, rotting hands groped at his skin, forcing him down onto the ground…

“Potter!  _ Potter _ !”

Harry woke, drenched in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. He looked around, eyes wide, and gave a start as he realised that Draco Malfoy was perched on the bed beside him.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked, his voice trembling with concern. “You - you were shouting … screaming…”

Harry did not reply. He continued to pant, trying with all his might to push the nightmare from his mind, but the more he tried to forget about it, the more clearly the images appeared in his mind’s eye.

“Dead…” he said in a choked voice. “They’re all dead…”

“They’re not dead,” said Draco at once. “They’re alright, Potter. It was just a dream.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s my fault…”

“It’s not your fault,” Draco argued. “It is  _ not _ your fault.”

Harry began to shake, tears spilling down his cheeks. He let out a strangled sob and buried his face in his hands. Draco put a comforting hand on Harry’s back, letting him cry and remaining at his side for as long as he needed to. Harry continued to cry until he tired himself out and lay back against the pillows, still shaking. Draco got to his feet, making to return to his own bed, but Harry reached out and touched his forearm gently.

“Stay…” he whispered. Draco nodded and resumed his spot on the bed. He lay down beside Harry and slowly coaxed him to sleep. Once Harry had stopped shaking and was breathing steadily, Draco found that he was too tired to slouch back to his own bed, so he fell asleep where he was, his chest rising and falling in time with Harry’s.

*

Harry woke to find Draco sleeping right beside him. He could vaguely remember the night’s events and was grateful for Draco’s company and comfort. He quickly and quietly got out of bed, careful not to disturb Draco as he did so, and silently retrieved his shower things from his own room, then went into the bathroom.

Once was standing in the warm spray of the water, Harry submerged himself in his thoughts. Fortunately, Harry could not remember what had happened in his dream, only that it had been related to the war. He pushed himself not to think about it. Why had Draco returned to Hogwarts the same day as he had left? Why had he been crying? Why did Harry want to hold Draco’s hand again? What had happened to Draco between the time he had left in the morning and the time he had crashed into the common room the previous night. 

Harry had been so focused on getting into the shower that he had forgotten to bring his towel into the stall with him. He poked his head out and located the nearest shelf of towels. He took a deep breath and hurried across the room, a hand cupped over his bits, and grabbed a towel so aggressively that he knocked a few others off the shelf.

“Nice arse, Potter,” said Draco, and Harry turned, mortified, to find Draco stepping out of one of the other showers, smirking at him. Harry saw his face turn scarlet in one of the mirrors, and he quickly darted back into the shower, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Harry managed to get to his room after his shower without coming face-to-face with Draco. He dressed quickly and was halfway down to the Great Hall for breakfast when Draco appeared at his side, panting.

“I wait for you and then you leave me?” he complained, grinning. Harry grinned back, hoping that Draco wasn’t going to bring up what had happened in the bathroom. Harry was also glad to see that Draco wasn’t upset any more and was making an effort to brighten up the atmosphere. They walked down to the Great Hall in silence. As they descended the penultimate staircase, Harry thought he felt Draco’s fingers scraping at the back of Harry’s hand, but assumed it was unintentional.

Aside from Draco and Harry, there were twenty other students remaining at Hogwarts for the holidays: five Hufflepuffs, who were huddled in the very middle of their long House table; four Ravenclaws; nine Slytherins; and two Gryffindors, who were not at breakfast this morning (Harry had seen them at dinner the previous night). Harry hesitated as he and Draco entered the Great Hall.

“Er - do you want to sit together?” he asked awkwardly, his voice hushed. 

Draco nodded and followed Harry to the Gryffindor table. Harry wished they could fill their plates with food and then go back upstairs; it was so awkward in the enormous Great Hall when so few people were sitting in it. He could feel the Ravenclaws’ eyes on him, but ignored them and looked at Draco, who was poking at his eggs with a fork.

A sound from overhead signalled the arrival of the post owls, and Harry looked up at the overcast grey sky to see Errol swooping down towards him. He dropped an envelope in Harry’s lap and clicked his beak at him. He pushed his goblet of orange juice towards him as he one-handedly opened the envelope and read through the letter:

 

_ Harry, _

_ When Arthur and I picked up Ron and Ginny from King’s Cross yesterday we expected you to have arrived with them. Seeing as that was not the case, we asked Ron why you were not present, and he told us what you had said. I must say that I understand why you did not wish to accompany Ron and Ginny, but I wish you had risked it and come anyway, as we all love having you around. I also hate to think about you remaining at Hogwarts alone. And, Harry, know that nobody here blames you for Fred. All of us love you very much and hope you will be joining us soon (Minerva says she would be happy to let you use her fireplace to get to us). Please write back with your plans as soon as you can. _

_ Best wishes and much love, _

_ Molly  _

 

Harry read through the letter a few times. Finally, he set it down on the bench beside him and resumed his breakfast. Draco was eating quietly opposite Harry, apparently refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. Harry did not press him, nor did Draco press Harry about the letter. After they had finished eating, they left the Great Hall together and walked in silence to the common room. 

Harry sat down by the fire, where he had left his things from the previous night. Draco hesitated for a second and then sat down beside Harry.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked quietly, not looking up from  _ Flying with the Cannons _ . He would not press Draco any further than this, since Draco had not pressed him for details of his dream (not that Harry could remember them anyway). Draco let out a pent-up sigh and nodded. Harry glanced up at him and rested the book on his lap.

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “Well - er - what happened?”

“I went home, and as soon as I got there my father was sat in the dining room, all formal and everything. He said he wanted to talk.”

As Draco recounted yesterday’s events to Harry, he felt his throat tighten and his cheeks redden, but he didn’t cry. He was sure not to mention the part where he had told his parents that he was gay and in love with Harry; he wasn’t stupid. If he was going to profess his love to Harry, this was not how he was going to do it. As he spoke, his hand moved to Harry’s and held it, without a word about it from either of them. Harry listened well, nodding when it seemed appropriate. He felt a swirling feeling in his chest that, after Draco’s story, he realised it was him feeling sorry for Draco.

“So I Disapparated to the Leaky Cauldron and used the Floo. I didn’t even know it would take me straight here … quite lucky, really.” Draco concluded, leaning back on the sofa with a heavy sigh.

Harry said nothing for a moment, processing everything that Draco had just told him and trying to think of what could possibly be said. Finally, he breathed, “What do you think they’re going to do now?”

Draco shrugged. “They’ll probably write; Father will be very angry but Mother will show me sympathy. I expect they’ll attempt to persuade me to go back, but I won’t.” Draco shook his head. “I  _ won’t _ go back.”

Harry put his free hand on Draco’s shoulder, trying to comfort the other boy. He looked at him and offered him an empathetic smile. Draco shook his head again, pulling his hand out of Harry’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t mean to burden you with this … I should just shut up and leave you alone. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all of my problems…”

Before Harry could stop himself; before Harry knew what he was doing, he had sat bolt upright and taken Draco’s chin in his hand, gently turning Draco’s face towards his so that their noses were inches away from each other. Harry could see every detail in Draco’s face; every fleck of darker grey in his cloudy grey eyes…

“You aren’t burdening me,” he said quietly. His throat was suddenly very dry. “I asked if you wanted to talk about it. What kind of an arsehole would ask you to talk about it and then ask you to stop? I’m not like that, Draco, I want to help you.”

Draco smiled weakly at him. “Potter, I…” he considered telling Harry the last thing he had told his parents before Disapparating. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he had no idea how Harry would react ... did he feel the same way about boys let alone about Draco? In that moment, Draco realised just how little he knew about Harry.

“Let’s stop talking about me,” he said, pulling his head away from Harry and shifting his gaze. “Why don’t we talk about you?”

Harry shrugged. “What else is there to know? The  _ Daily Prophet _ seems to have given the public loads about me-”

Draco laughed, and Harry blushed. He liked Draco’s laugh; liked how it made him feel warmer. Draco adjusted his grip on Harry’s hand and Harry felt the tickling sensation in his chest spread to his arms and hands.

“I mean, the  _ real _ you,” said Draco. “Not the shite that the  _ Prophet _ comes out with. The real Harry James Potter.”

Harry laughed nervously. “I - er - what do you want to know?”

“Well, why did you stay here? No,  _ really _ . I know you say you wanted to give Weasley and his family space because of their brother, but were you really going to be okay in the castle on your own for so long?”

Harry shrugged. “Better for me to stay here by myself than intrude on them-”

“But they wouldn’t think you were intruding!” Draco persisted. “Look, I don’t know much about it, but from what I’ve seen, I’d say that they think you’re just as much family as the rest of them. And I think you know it.”

Harry shrugged again. “I dunno… I just - I can’t help feeling that it’s my fault-”

“It’s not!” said Draco indignantly. “Please stop thinking that it is because I know for a fact that anyone who loves you or knows you well enough or what have you - will all _know_ that it wasn’t your fault! Ron’s brother _chose_ to fight in that war, and he fought valiantly and died a hero’s death. It was nobody’s fault but the Death Eater who killed him. You have to let this go, Potter, _it_ _wasn’t your fault_.”

His eyes darted to Mrs Weasley’s letter, which Harry had set down on the table. “Write back to them. Tell them you’re going to go and stay with them.”

“But - I - no-” Harry stammered, staring at Draco.

“ _ Yes _ , come on,” Draco said, waving his wand and summoning a quill, pot of ink and some parchment. “You can use a school owl; I suspect the Weasley owl is already halfway back to them by now.”

Harry moved to the floor and obediently began to scribe the letter. He turned around and looked at Draco, “I can’t go!” he said. “I can’t leave you here on your own!”

Draco shrugged. “I’m an only child; I’m used to the solitude. Don’t worry about me, Potter, go home to your family.”

His words were sincere, and Harry knew he was wholly serious. Still, Harry didn’t want to leave him at Hogwarts with no companion, despite the fact that he had planned to do the same. He returned to his letter but wrote nothing more on the parchment. Draco seemed to see this.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, just  _ write _ ,” he sighed, his tone slightly amused. “Tell them that you’d be happy to join them for Christmas and that you’ll travel via the Floo. Oh, please stop worrying about me-” he smiled at Harry, who had turned around again. “-if I were you, and I had a family that wanted me around, I’d go.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry muttered. “I’m sure your parents  _ do _ want you around-”

Draco shook his head. “Not for the same reasons; not because they love and miss me. They just want to set me up with some Pureblood princess before I can get a word in, and then they’ll probably get me to drop out of school and try to get a job at the Ministry early.”

“They’ll really still try to arrange your marriage?” Harry asked, astounded. “Even if you don’t love that person?”

Draco avoided Harry’s eyes and nodded. “Yes. They don’t care about that. They didn’t love each other when they were married, you know. Their parents forced them into it right after they finished here and I don’t think they ever really loved each other until after I was born. I can’t imagine why they’d want to put their own son through that- no wait, yes I can.”

He stared at the ground resolutely, his expression bitter. “If there’s any way I can get out of that sort of future, I’ll take it. Even if it does mean staying here by myself for a few weeks.”

Harry looked at him sadly. “I’ll stay with you-”

“No, you won’t,” Draco shook his head, recomposing himself. “You’re going to write that fucking letter and then go and pack.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Draco got up and strode out of the room.

“Write the damned letter!” he called over his shoulder as he went into his dormitory. Harry got up and followed him. “You can’t avoid your parents forever.”

Draco gave him a sour look. “Watch me.”

“Draco, I don’t want you to be here by yourself!” Harry admitted. “I won’t be able to go and be happy and enjoy my holidays with everyone knowing you’re going to be here all by yourself!”

Draco refused to look at him and busied himself with unpacking his trunk. 

“Stop unpacking!” Harry exclaimed. “Come to the Burrow with me.” 

The idea had only just popped up in his mind as he was saying it, and he hadn’t really thought about it. Draco stopped what he was doing and looked at Harry, bemused.

“As fucking if the Weasleys would want  _ me _ in their house,” he snapped, continuing to rifle through his trunk. Harry stood his ground, his head hammering as he tried to think about how something like this could possibly work. Draco was right, it was unlikely that there would be much happiness or tolerance for him at the Burrow. Out of all of the Weasleys, Harry had no idea who would be the most understanding.

Harry turned on his heel and marched back into the common room, sitting himself down in front of the parchment and staring at it. He read and reread the greeting to Mrs Weasley over and over again until inspiration struck. He picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink and brought it to the page, scribbling as neatly as he could.

When he had finished, he read through his letter and smiled at it satisfactorily.

 

_ Dear Mrs Weasley, _

_ Thank you for the reassurance that I wouldn’t be intruding upon you or the others if I came to stay. I would very much like to spend the holidays with you and everyone else, but I cannot leave Hogwarts and leave my friend, Draco Malfoy, behind. I wondered, if it would be okay with you, if he could come with me to the Burrow? I know this is a lot to ask, and that you and everyone else don’t trust Draco very much, which is understandable given what he has done in the past, but he has already apologised to myself and Ron (and Hermione) and is on the road to redeeming himself for good. Please understand that a lot of his actions were because he was forced into the wrong crowd and had little say in his own life. I’m not trying to justify what he did, nor is he - we just wanted you to know. He was supposed to spend the holidays with his own family, but it seems that they are no longer on speaking terms, so he returned here only hours after leaving. As he and I are friends now, I would feel guilty if I departed for the Burrow and left him behind by himself. _

_ Despite this, I would understand perfectly if you were to decline; I am asking for quite a lot. I hope that you might allow it, seeing as it is Christmas. However, if you’re uncomfortable with it, I respect that and will see you at Easter. Please take as much time as you need to reply. _

_ Thank you very much, _

_ Harry  _

 

He nodded, satisfied with his letter, and stuffed it inside an envelope, which he sealed and addressed. Without a word to Draco, Harry departed for the Owlery, where he tied the letter to the leg of a handsome tawny owl and watched as the bird took off into the bright morning. He returned to the common room, where he found Draco pouring over a long roll of parchment. 

“Did you send the letter?” he asked, not looking up, as Harry entered the room.

“Yup,” Harry nodded, settling down on the sofa again. He felt a gentle twinge of guilt, knowing that he had very nearly bribed Mrs Weasley into letting Draco go with him to the Burrow, what with him slipping in that it was Christmas. He remained unsure of what she would write back. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he got up and went to his room to retrieve his schoolbag in order to get through some more homework.

Harry and Draco spent the day inside, working for the most part, though Harry persuaded Draco to play a few games of wizard chess with him after lunch. He was unsurprised to find that Draco was much better than himself, and was beaten by a very triumphant and smug Draco every time. They hardly noticed the snow swirling at the windows, as they were snug in the warmth of the common room. After dinner, Draco followed Harry into his room and looked around curiously. He sank onto Harry’s bed and watched the framed photograph of Harry’s parents on his bedside table.

“I don’t think I’ve ever apologised for giving you so much shit about being an orphan,” he said sadly.

Harry shrugged. “You apologised for everything. It’s alright-”

“No, it isn’t,” Draco interrupted him. “It fucking isn’t alright. I made fun of you because you lost your parents? That’s horrible; it’s disgusting and I hate myself for it. I don’t know what the fuck was wrong with me for thinking that I was …  _ cool  _ for making fun of the fact that you didn’t have parents. I didn’t stop for a single fucking second to think about how you must feel; how  _ I _ would feel if I hadn’t grown up being able to hide behind my mother or get my father to fight my battles for me… I was pathetic. Fucking pathetic _. _ I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…”

He buried his face in his hands and let out a low, strangled sob. Harry sank onto the bed next to him, tears welling up in his own eyes as he slowly moved his hand so that his fingers slipped through Draco’s.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I- Thank you.”

Draco shook his head. “I’m an ignorant, stupid, pathetic excuse of a human being.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry replied quietly. “You’re - I think you just got put with the wrong sort.”

Draco looked up, his eyes misty and red. He couldn’t help grinning as he said, “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

His eyes met Harry’s, and the two of them burst into a fit of laughter, both wiping the tears from their eyes. Once they had calmed down, they looked at each other, gazing into each other’s eyes. Then, all of a sudden, in a spur of the moment decision, Harry closed his eyes, leaned forward and kissed Draco softly. Draco stared in surprise for a moment, his grey eyes wide, and then melted into it and began to kiss Harry back. Harry tasted like Butterbeer and treacle tart, and it was better than anything Draco had ever dream of He lifted his hands and put them in Harry’s hair, running them up and down and savouring every second that passed.

Harry had never experienced anything like this before, not even when he had kissed Ginny. He felt as though fireworks were going off all around them, and the longer they kissed, the more Harry realised how much he had wanted this. The tickling sensation in his chest had spread to every inch of his body, and  Harry felt like his body was on fire, but not in a bad way. Then, Draco pulled away, and Harry’s felt his spirits sinking rapidly.

Harry stared at him, wonderstruck. “That was…”

Draco nodded. “I know.” He wanted to kiss Harry again; he wanted to kiss Harry for the rest of his life, but it would surely bring enormous consequences. He refused to meet Harry’s eyes and chose instead to stare at the handle of the Firebolt sticking out from underneath the bed.

“Why did you stop?” Harry asked quietly, and Draco shook his head. Tears were gathering in his eyes again, he had just come down from the best high in the world with an almighty crash. He looked up at Harry and blinked, the tears streaming down his cheeks. Harry inched forward, his hand moving to Draco’s cheek, but Draco jerked away. Harry stared at him, his eyes wide with fear.

“I can’t,” Draco said in a quiet, frail voice.

“But-”

_ “I can’t,” _ Draco repeated firmly, his voice breaking. He got up and stormed out of the room, walking quickly to his room. He locked the door and pushed his chest of drawers against it, and then collapsed onto his bed. Burying his face in his hands, he let go, sobbing uncontrollably. 

“Draco,  _ let me in!”  _ came Harry’s voice from behind the door, which shook violently as he tried to push it open. Draco cried harder still. Harry persisted, trying to get in, and then, realising Draco was unlikely to open the door, attempted to converse with Draco from outside. It wasn’t long before Draco could hear the sobs in Harry’s words too. He silently moved to the door and leaned against it, sinking to the floor. He knew Harry was sitting on the other side, but did nothing to show the other boy that he was there.

More than anything, Draco wanted to open the door and sit with Harry; hug him again; kiss him again. But the future was uncertain and Draco didn’t want Harry to get hurt. There were multiple instances where he considered ignoring the possibility of negative repercussions and going ahead with it anyway.

_ Go ahead with what? _ Said a sceptical voice in the back of Draco’s mind.  _ There’s nothing between you. This is Harry Potter. You’re in love with him and he has no idea. He doesn’t want the same thing; how could he? You’re an emotional trainwreck. You’ve done too much damage for there to be anything between you and Harry Potter.  _


	14. cold

Harry stopped trying to get through to Draco at around one o’clock in the morning. He realised that his attempts were futile and Draco wasn’t even listening to what he was saying. He got into the shower and stewed in his thoughts, thinking about how soft Draco’s lips were and how kissing them had made Harry feel like they were the only two people in the world.

Harry had an inkling of why Draco had stopped kissing him and understood. He wished that they could have gone one. With a tingle that ran from the tip of his spine all the way down to his feet, Harry wondered what would have happened if they _had_ gone on. He spent the rest of his time in the shower thinking about the events that may have taken place if Draco had not cut their kiss short, and continued to think about it as he drifted off to sleep later on.

When he woke up hours later, he checked the Marauders’ Map and saw that Draco was still in his room. Perhaps he had left during the night, but Harry didn’t care. He was angry with Draco now; angry that he was being so childish and shutting himself away. All through the day, Draco remained in his room. Harry wondered, as the sun set, if he had finished all his homework yet, seeing as there was little else he could be doing.

*

Draco fell asleep in the early hours of the morning and woke again late next day. He didn’t know if Harry was still outside the door, but he didn’t dare make any attempt to find out. For most of the day, Draco was trapped with his thoughts. He kept refilling his water jug with a wave of his wand. He was careful not to drink so much that he would need to use the toilet, but enough so that he was replenished.

When the sun began to set outside, Draco’s stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch and rumbled hungrily. He knew that dinner would be starting around now, but was nowhere near hungry enough to risk facing Harry in the Great Hall. He did, however, seriously need to use the toilet. He _could_ just relieve himself in his cauldron and Vanish the contents, but he did not think that his moral standards needed to sink so low purely so that he wouldn’t have to face Harry Potter.

He moved the chest of drawers from the door and unlocked it, then carefully and quietly poked his head out in the corridor. It was, mercifully, deserted. He tiptoed towards the common room and was relieved that it was also empty. He crept into the bathroom and returned a few moments later, finding himself face-to-face with Harry. His eyes fell from Harry’s face to his hands, which were holding a plate of food.

“Hi,” said Harry quietly, and Draco felt his heart melt. He looked away from him.

“I - er - I’ve brought you some dinner,” Harry went on, holding up the plate of food. “I thought you could use something to eat; you probably don’t have any food in your room other than Honeydukes sweets…”

Draco continued to stare resolutely at the floor. He wished he had thought of the stash of sweets in his room. Instead, he had consumed nothing but water all day. The aroma of the food was carried to Draco on the draught coming in through a gap under the window, and his stomach growled hungrily. Harry seemed to read his mind and took a tentative step forward. Draco stepped back uncertainly and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh, don’t be so ridiculous,” he snapped. “I’m giving you the food, Draco. I’ve no desire in kissing you again; your sulking has put me off.”

This last comment was a lie: Harry wanted very much to kiss Draco again. He understood, however, that the chances of there being anything between them were slim, and if anything were to happen, it would surely end very quickly, so he kept to himself.

“Thank you,” Draco mumbled, picking up a bit of roast potato with his fingers and tossing it into his mouth. His stomach grumbled again, and he took the plate to one of the desks, sitting down to eat. Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should remain in the common room. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by a sudden tapping at the window. Harry turned and saw the handsome tawny owl he had sent to the Burrow sitting on the window ledge.

Harry rushed over and let the bird in, then shut the window with a snap, shivering as he did so. The bird flew over to the fire and perched itself atop the sofa, sticking its leg out for Harry to take the letter that was tied to it. Harry obliged and gave the owl a treat from the small bowl of them on the mantle. He collapsed onto the sofa, tearing open the envelope and reading through the letter.

 

_Harry,_

_Mum gave me your last letter because she said it was my judgement to make, seeing as I’m the only one here who spends any time with Malfoy. Since I know Ginny sees him almost as much as I do, I showed it to her too - hope that’s okay with you._

_Are you sure you want Malfoy to come and spend Christmas with us? I mean, I know he hasn’t done anything wrong for a while and that he’s apologised to loads of us, but we still hardly know him. I’m okay with it if you are, and Ginny says she won’t hex him because he’s nice to Luna. Mum and Dad and everyone else say that they trust you (and me) and will be okay with whatever happens. Mum was actually worried that Malfoy would hate her because she killed Bellatrix Lestrange, and she was his aunt and all, but I said he probably wouldn’t have minded. He wouldn’t, right?_

_So, if you really want him to come, then send an owl back with your plan. Mum says to arrive on Tuesday, if you are coming._

_Hope to see you then, with or without Malfoy,_

_Ron_

 

Harry finished the letter and groaned loudly.  Draco snapped up from his food, his expression frantic with worry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously. Harry smiled and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he replied. Draco’s eyes found the letter in Harry’s hands.

“Did they say you couldn’t go?”

“No - the opposite.”

Draco frowned at him. “Then why are you groaning like that? Surely you _want_ to see them-”

“No, no, I do. It’s just … I - er - I just feel bad about you staying here by yourself, that’s all.” Harry lied quickly. Draco shrugged at him, turning back to his food.

“Don’t you think we should take some time apart?” he asked with his back to Harry.

“Er - _maybe?”_ Harry answered unsurely. “I just - even though we _did_ … snog, I still don’t want you to be here on your own… Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

Draco finished his food and Vanished the plate and cutlery, then got up and pushed his chair in. “I really don’t think that would be wise,” he said coldly. Harry was sure that he was _trying_ to make himself sound cold and resentful to push Harry away, and it wasn’t going to work.

“Draco, shouldn’t we talk-”

“Why? There’s nothing to talk about. Go home and talk to your family,” said Draco, striding out of the room and slamming his bedroom door shut behind him. Harry’s heart sank. He still didn’t know what to do: part of him felt as though he should stay and be here for Draco, even if Draco wanted to be cold and distant with him; then the other part of him wanted to go and spend Christmas at the Burrow, surrounded by his favourite people in the world.

He went to bed with the decision still unmade and lay awake for hours thinking about his options. He had a night of restless sleep, full of dreams where Ron had died in the Battle of Hogwarts and Hermione had blamed Harry for it; where Harry hadn’t gone back to save Draco, Crabbe and Goyle in the Fiendfyre and had let them all die…

Harry woke up early next morning in a cold sweat, panting heavily. He peered through the curtains and saw that the sun was rising on the horizon. He doubted very much that he was going to get back to sleep, so he rifled through his bag for a quill, a pot of ink and some parchment. He went into the dark common room and lit a fire with his wand, then wrote a hasty letter to Ron explaining that he would leave for the Burrow after breakfast next day, and that he would be going without Draco. He added a post-script saying that he would tell him everything tomorrow, and then put the finished letter down on the table while he went to get his toiletries so that he could have a shower and get dressed before sending it.

When he got back from the Owlery, he found that Draco had not waited for him before going down to the Great Hall for breakfast, so Harry went down by himself and saw that Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table. Harry confidently went to join him and sat down in the seat opposite.

“This isn’t your table, Potter,” Draco said coldly. Harry ignored him and helped himself to a warm crumpet.

“You’ll be happy to learn that I’m going to Ron’s tomorrow morning. Until then, you’re going to be a good friend and hang out with me.” Harry smiled, spreading butter on his crumpet and not looking at Draco, who was staring at him in alarm.

“I don’t have to-”

“No, you don’t, but I’d like you to,” said Harry lightly. “-and something tells me that you’ll do it.”

“Well, perhaps I would have done, but now that you’ve said _that_ -”

“Oh, don’t be such a prat,” Harry snapped, smirking slightly. He was glad to see that Draco had managed to crack a small smile. They said little else to each other while they were in the Great Hall, but once they were on the way back up to the common room, Draco couldn’t help but laugh at Harry’s terrible jokes and attempts at getting Draco to stop sulking.

Draco agreed to work in the common room, while Harry talked _at_ him rather than to him, seeing as Draco often didn’t respond. Whether this was because he didn’t want to risk anything happening between them like the other day, or because Draco was simply uninterested in what Harry was saying, Harry did not know. They ate together at lunch, and then Harry persuaded Draco to walk around the frozen laze with him, both of them wrapped up in scarves and coats.

“I’ve always loved it here,” said Draco, smiling fondly, as they set off into the grounds.

“At Hogwarts?” Harry enquired, walking faster to keep up with Draco’s long strides.

“Well, yes, but I meant in the grounds.”

“Oh,” Harry said shortly, looking at the snow as he ploughed through it. “So have I. Hogwarts was the first place I could ever really call home.”

“Not where you grew up?” Draco asked.

Harry gave him a sceptical look. “You _know_ I hated the Dursleys.”

“Hm, I suppose I did, yes,” Draco nodded. “Whatever happened to them? I know they had to leave when you turned seventeen, but did they go back after the war ended?”

“I don’t know,” Harry confessed, staring at the lake, where a group of sixth-years were skating towards the banks. “I haven’t spoken to them since.”

Draco nodded, and they ploughed on through the snow in silence. The air was chilly and the wind was low. The grounds were coated in frost, and the castle resembled an elaborate iced cake. They were halfway around the lake before either of them spoke again.

“You know,” said Draco. “I still don’t know much about you.”

Harry turned his head to look at him. They were walking through a thicket of trees and couldn’t see the castle nor the lake from where they were.

“No, I suppose you don’t,” Harry acknowledged. “What do you want to know?”

Draco hummed in thought, and then said, “Well, what’s your favourite food?”

“Treacle tart,” said Harry. “In a heartbeat.”

Draco chuckled. “Yeah … you tasted like treacle tart when we…”

Harry stopped and stared at the back of Draco’s head as Draco trailed off nervously, toeing through the snow. Slowly, Draco turned around and faced Harry, his cheeks and nose pink from the cold. They stared at each other.

“So you acknowledge it, then?” Harry asked quietly. “That we - we kissed?”

Draco laughed. “Of course I do. It was-”

“I know it was,” Harry breathed. He could feel the colour rising in his cheeks.

Draco moved so quickly that Harry had hardly any time to react before Draco’s lips were on his. Harry kissed him back fiercely, euphoria taking over his mind as Draco’s kiss warmed his whole body. His gloved hands clutched Draco’s pink cheeks, and Draco’s grabbed fistfuls of Harry’s jet black hair. It seemed to last for hours, but then it was over. Draco and Harry looked at each other shyly and then resumed their walk as though they hadn’t just snogged each other stupid. Harry was feeling considerably warmer. He pulled his scarf as the castle came into view again.

“So…” Harry said at last. It felt like it had been weeks since they had last spoken. “That was-”

“It was,” Draco admitted.

“I was going to say shite,” Harry grinned, and Draco laughed. They were ascending the stone steps up to the Entrance Hall now. Harry could see the sun sinking lower in the sky, even though there were still a few hours before it would be dark outside. Harry pushed open the enormous oaken front doors and let Draco in before him.

“Thank you,” Draco smiled graciously, ducking into the Entrance Hall and brushing snow off his clothes. Harry did the same, and the doors closed with a deep thud behind him. They held hands as they made their way back up to the warmth of the common room, pulling their hands away from each other whenever they heard footsteps.

Harry and Draco spent the rest of their afternoon by the fire, sitting close together on the sofa, their hands intertwined between them. They did not kiss again, nor did they speak very much. Instead, the two of them read quietly, more than happy to be in each other’s company. At dinner, they talked quietly at the end of the Gryffindor table.

As he studied Draco’s face, Harry’s mind buzzed with a million thoughts. They had kissed again; what did it mean? He was leaving next day, and would not see Draco for weeks. Had it just been a kiss - no - _two_ kisses? Surely Draco didn’t expect anything to blossom from him and Harry kissing? He certainly hadn’t tried to kiss Harry again since their interaction on the other side of the lake. A slight sinking feeling washed over Harry as he realised that they had probably just been messing around… He didn’t know how this made him feel; he was a stranger to his own emotion. All that Harry knew was that the sensation he felt when Draco kissed him was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Surely, that had to mean _something_ …

“How are you travelling tomorrow?” Draco asked him, recalling Harry to the present.

“Um- oh, the Floo,” Harry replied idly, poking at his treacle tart with his fork.

“What’s wrong?”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, _right_ ,” Draco scoffed. He reached across the table and touched Harry’s hand from behind a large dish of trifle. Harry jumped at the sudden contact, his cheeks going scarlet.

“I - er - well-” he stuttered, pulling his hand out of Draco’s reach. “I just - I’m confused. We _snogged_ !” he gasped, dropping his voice to a hiss of a whisper. “ _Twice!_ You can’t act like there’s nothing going on between us…”

“There isn’t,” said Draco quickly, not looking at Harry. “They were just kisses. You’re going away tomorrow, come on, finish your pudding and I’ll help you pack.”

Harry begrudgingly continued to eat his treacle tart, and, when he had finished, he and Draco left the Great Hall in silence.

“How am I supposed to go away after a kiss like that?” Harry implored, folding a jumper and putting it in his trunk. “Twice!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Stop thinking about it.”

“How can I?” Harry asked impatiently. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had a kiss that good, and _twice-”_

“Let it go, Potter,” Draco mumbled, rolling up a pair of socks and passing them to Harry. “It can’t happen.”

Harry gaped at him, hardly believing how stupid Draco was being. “But it’s already happened! _Twice!”_

“Alright, you’ve mentioned that we snogged twice!” Draco snapped. “What do you want me to do? Kiss you again and let you go away even more confused than you are now? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg you to be my boyfriend? Do you want me to ask you to keep this to yourself so we can talk about this properly in the future? Do you want me to never bring it up again? What do you want, Potter?”

Harry sat down on the end of his bed. “I don’t know…” he said quietly. “I just - I hate not knowing what’s going on. What’s going on, Draco? What are we?”

Draco sank onto the quilt beside Harry. “We’re … we’re - Merlin, even I don’t know. Do we have to be something? Can’t we just … wait and see what happens? I mean, we aren’t going to see each other for a few weeks after you leave tomorrow morning, so that’ll definitely have some effect on - on _whatever this is_.”

Harry looked up at Draco, his eyes wide. He could see Draco watching his mouth, and quickly turned away, surprising himself.

“So … we just see what happens,” Harry nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I - but wait, does that mean we can’t snog again?”

Draco laughed. “I don’t know.”

Harry would have kissed him, but it wasn’t the moment. Instead, he stood up and continued packing his trunk. Draco helped him for a little longer and then went off to bed.

It was nearly midnight when Harry decided that he should get some sleep. He had a few things left to pack, and he made a mental note to remind himself to tackle them in the morning. Yawning, he flopped onto his bed and was asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i love angst


	15. overthinking

Harry levitated his trunk to Professor McGonagall’s office the next morning after breakfast. Before he left, he rushed off, saying he had to go to the bathroom, when he was actually meeting Draco away from prying eyes.

“See you next year,” Harry grinned.

“You’re a prat,” said Draco, rolling his eyes. They stood awkwardly for a moment and then Harry hugged Draco tightly, pressing his face into the crook of Draco’s neck and shoulder and savouring the scent he had grown to like so much. They parted, and Harry fought the urge to kiss Draco again. Since their last, Harry had been thinking about little else, however much he tried to force himself not to.

“Merry Christmas, Potter,” Draco smiled. 

“Thanks. You too... Well, see you later.”

“Bye,” said Draco, watching Harry as he set off down the corridor back to McGonagall’s office.

When he arrived at the Burrow, he was greeted by an enthusiastic hug from Mrs Weasley, followed by one from Ron, Ginny and George. After a cup of tea in the kitchen, Harry levitated his trunk upstairs to Ron’s room, where he gave Ron his cover story for why Draco was not with him.

“So, he just changed his mind and refused to pack his trunk. I thought, since him and I aren’t  _ that  _ close-” Harry felt his cheeks burn as he said this. “-that it would be best to just leave him. I still feel bad that he’s going to be there for the holidays by himself.”

“ _ You _ were going to stay there by yourself,” Ron pointed out. 

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, but-”

“He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want to. You said it yourself, you made it clear that he was welcome to come and stay here, and he wasn’t interested. Don’t beat yourself up over it, mate, you tried.”

Harry nodded, thinking for a moment. “Ron?” he said suddenly.

“Yeah?” Ron frowned at him.

“Are you - er - are you alright with Dra-  _ Malfoy _ now?”

“I dunno,” Ron shrugged. “I mean, I don’t  _ mind _ him. You and Hermione get on with him well enough, so I thought I’d just … y’know, go with it. He’s not so bad. I appreciate that he apologised and he’s clearly trying to right all his wrongs and all that. So yeah, I think I’m alright with him. Why?”

Harry shook his head. “Just wondered.”

This was untrue: the real reason that Harry had asked was because he had been wondering what Ron would do if he, Harry, and Draco started going out officially, or - in an especially mortifying situation - if he stumbled across Harry and Draco snogging again. Harry suspected that Hermione would be happy that Harry was happy. Besides, she and Draco had been spending an increasing amount of time together in the last few weeks.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed his Christmas holidays. He had forgotten how much fun it was to stay at the Burrow, and was pleasantly reminded. Luna regularly Apparated from the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole to spend the day with him, Ron and Ginny. On Christmas Day, Harry indulged in Mrs Weasley’s succulent cooking and the Weasleys’ cheerful company. George toasted to Fred, and they all lifted their glasses in his memory.

Despite how much he tried not to think about it, Harry’s mind was constantly reminding him that he and Draco Malfoy had kissed on two separate occasions and that Draco was at Hogwarts waiting for him. Harry shuddered to think about the conversation that awaited him, now that Draco would be unable to say that they would ‘talk after the holidays’. He was careful not to mention these thoughts to anyone while he was at the Burrow.

When the time came for him, Ron and Ginny to pack their trunks and return to Hogwarts, Harry was rather resenting having to go back to school. He was looking forward to seeing Hermione, but he wasn’t keen on facing Draco now that the other eighth-years would be around again and they would no longer have the common room to themselves. Harry also had no desire to start his lessons again or be reminded of the fact he would be taking his N.E.W.T.s in only sixth months.

*

The cool, January wind bit at Harry’s cheeks as he got off the Hogwarts Express. He pulled his trunk along with him, following Ron toward the carriages. Not everyone was required to travel to Hogwarts on the Hogwarts Express any more, but could come and go on their desired mode of transport, so long as they arrived in time for the start of term. Hermione had arrived earlier that day, after Apparating into Hogsmeade, where she met Hagrid, who had met her and the other students arriving in the same way up to the castle. 

Harry was feeling high-spirited after a particularly enjoyable holiday and a pleasant train ride back to Hogwarts. His dread for being reunited with Draco had disappeared. In fact, Harry’s mind had been completely void of any negative feelings for ages now, and he felt that he was neither dreading nor excitedly awaiting his reunion with Draco.

He, Ron, Ginny and Luna got out of the carriage and pulled their trunks up the stone steps into the Entrance Hall, where they were greeted by Hermione.

“Hi, Hermione,” he said brightly, hugging her. “Happy New Year! Good holiday?”

She nodded enthusiastically, and they set off into the Great Hall for the feast. “Yes, thank you. What about you? Ron wrote and told me what happened…”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron, who shrugged. 

“Yeah, it was - well, never mind. I had a good time at the Burrow.”

“Good,” she beamed at him. “I’m glad you weren’t here on your own.”

What with catching up with the friends he hadn’t seen for weeks, Harry almost didn’t see Draco coming into the Great Hall, Pansy and Blaise on either side of him. He looked up from his conversation momentarily and caught his eye.

Although he had done very well in pushing Draco to the back of his mind, Harry had expected to feel like his heart was on fire; he had expected to be overcome with emotion from the second his and Draco’s eyes locked from across the room. He was surprised beyond belief when he found that he felt absolutely nothing as their eyes met.

“Harry?” came Ron’s voice, and Harry turned away from Draco and resumed his conversation. All through dinner, Draco tried to catch Harry’s eye, but Harry seemed determined not to look at him. Draco shook this feeling and told himself that Harry was probably just enjoying his conversation with his friends. It didn’t mean that Harry wasn’t excited to see him; he had to be...

Draco tried to time his arrival in the common room so that he and Harry would bump into each other and have to talk, but Harry and Ron went straight to their dormitory after dinner. Pansy, Blaise and Theo stayed in the common room, eager to chat more, and Draco stayed with them, his eyes on the corridor leading to the dormitories. Surely Harry would come out, if not to talk, then to shower? Draco forced himself not to think about the possibility that Harry did not feel the same way he had before he had gone to Ron’s. He wanted, with every fibre of his being, for Harry to be the same as before.

Over the holidays, the only company that Draco had shared was that of his own mind. He had been alone with his thoughts for nearly three weeks, and he had certainly given his and Harry’s situation much thought: he wanted to be with him, if Harry felt the same way. If Draco was certain that Harry was serious about the two of them becoming something more, Draco wanted to ask Harry out; put a meaning behind their kisses.

_ Their kisses _ . Draco had definitely thought about them a lot; about Harry’s lips against his own. They had been so soft and full, and Draco relished in the thought of them roaming all over his body, kissing his chest and sucking at the skin on his neck… Draco was determined to corner Harry and catch up with him. He was even prepared to listen about Harry’s time with the Weasleys.

Harry’s bedroom door opened, and Draco looked up hopefully. He was discouraged, however, for it was only Ron going up to Hermione’s room. Draco rolled his eyes bitterly and leaned back in his seat again, forcing himself to listen to what Theo was saying about his aunt.

Would it be overstepping if Draco went to Harry’s room to speak with him there? Two weeks ago, maybe it would have been okay, but now Draco felt as though there was something between him and Harry. He had definitely sensed something when he had first seen Harry in the Great Hall; there had been no excitement in Harry’s eyes. Draco had got himself through the holidays with the thought of the excitement in Harry’s eyes that he had been so sure would be there when he saw him again.

“Don’t you think, Draco?” Pansy’s voice rang out in his mind suddenly, and he snapped out of his thoughts, looking around wildly.

“What?”

His friends tittered, and he rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bed,” he yawned, getting to his feet. He heard mumbles of ‘goodnight’ from Pansy, Blaise and Theo, but he wasn’t listening. He was thinking about how Harry had gone to the Weasleys’ for two weeks, where he had probably been told about how evil he, Draco, is, and how he was incapable of change. Harry probably hated Draco now. That was why he had been so unimpressed when their eyes had met in the Great Hall; that was why Harry had gone to bed without waiting to catch up.

Suddenly feeling very woeful, Draco changed into his pyjamas and climbed into his bed. His eyelids were very heavy and he was soon encumbered in a deep, dreamful sleep.


	16. sleepless

Harry woke next morning wishing he could have slept in a little longer. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, blearily looking around the dormitory. Ron was not there, and his bed looked like it had not been slept in, meaning that he had spent the night with Hermione again. Harry understood this, seeing as they had not seen each other for a while.

Harry suddenly thought of Draco, whom he had not seen for a while. They had not come across each other last night, and Harry knew that they needed to talk. Trying to shake this thought from his mind, Harry got up and rifled through his trunk for his shampoo and shower gel, then set off for the bathroom.

“You look awful, Harry,” said Hermione as Harry sat down opposite her in the Great Hall fifteen minutes later.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry chuckled, taking the coffee she offered him.

“Oh, I didn’t say it to be nasty. Did you sleep at all last night?”

Harry nodded, though he knew that his sleep had been very restless indeed. He had dreamt, over and over again, of him catching up with Draco. Multiple scenarios had played out, none of them ending well: first, Harry and Draco had had another fight that escalated so much that Draco had ended up dead; in another, Draco had told Harry that he never wanted to speak to him again; in another, Harry’s memory had been modified so that anything and everything he had ever learned about the Wizarding World had been wiped clean from his mind. There had been many more dreams, all of them ending equally or even more tragically. At one point, around four in the morning, Harry had considered going to Madam Pomfrey for a helping of Dreamless Sleep, but he was so tired that he could not bring himself to get out of bed, let alone walk through the castle under his Invisibility Cloak. 

“An  _ hour _ of sleep doesn’t count,” Hermione said, raising her eyebrow, but Harry shook his head.

“I got enough sleep,” he lied. “I’m fine.”

As he tucked into his eggs and bacon, he glanced at the door and saw Draco coming into the Great Hall. Draco didn’t look Harry’s way as he came in with Pansy and Blaise, and he sat with his back to Harry. Harry frowned, wondering whether Draco shared the same feelings about their inexplicable relationship as he, Harry, did now.

Hermione had Ancient Runes first lesson (as did Draco), so Ron and Harry went back up to the common room. Their next lesson was Charms, and Professor Flitwick gave them so much work that Harry was not presented with an opportunity to cross the classroom and speak to Draco.

All day, Harry tried to find Draco so that they could talk, but either Draco was nowhere in sight or Harry was too busy to talk for more than a few minutes, and he was positive that he and Draco would need much longer. 

It wasn’t until after dinner when Harry came out his dormitory to the loud chatter of the common room, that he finally cornered Draco, who was sitting alone by the window, a book open in front of him and his chin resting on his hand. Harry strode up to the desk where Draco was working and slid into the seat beside him.

“Hello, Potter,” said Draco, not looking up from his book. 

“Hi,” Harry smiled at him, but Draco stared pointedly at the text on the page. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“Me?” Draco did well in suppressing his hopefulness.

“Yeah, you. Have you been avoiding me?”

“Why would I be avoiding you?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno… So you weren’t?”

Draco did not reply. Harry pressed on, “Anyway, I‘ve been looking for you because I think it’s probably a good idea - no, I think we should talk.”

“Why?” Draco asked quietly, turning the page over with his free hand.

Harry made an impatient noise and suddenly pulled the book away from Draco, closing it with a snap. Draco turned his head, not lifting it from his hand, so that he was looking at Harry at last.

“Don’t  _ you  _ think we should talk?” Harry asked restlessly.

Draco shrugged. “I don’t see why we should. There’s nothing urgent.”

Harry gaped at him. “I - what? ‘Nothing urgent’? Draco, you can’t hide from me with the excuse ‘we’ll talk after Christmas’ to get out of this any more. It’s after Christmas. We  _ need _ to talk about this; we need to talk about … us.”

“Us?” Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “There isn’t an ‘us’, Potter.”

Draco pulled the book from his grip and returned to his page. He hoped - with all his heart - that Harry would refuse to accept no for an answer; that he would protest and stay up all night trying to persuade Draco that there was something between them (though, naturally, it would not take long). Of course, he had not said this, because he would rather face his parents again than tell Harry his true feelings.

“Yeah, okay,” said Harry after a moment. Draco lifted his head and looked at him, his heart sinking. “I didn’t think so... I just wanted to clarify. Right then, I guess I’ll see you around.”

He got up and strode back across the common room without another hand. Draco turned and watched him as he sat down with his friends, grinning and laughing without a care in the world. Draco felt his throat tighten and he quickly got to his feet, slamming his book shut and rushing away to his room, which was, thankfully, empty.

Draco sat on his bed and hung his head, burying his face in his hands. He had been so sure that Harry would argue with him. His behaviour before he had left last month had made Draco feel like something was bound to happen between them. Draco suddenly stomped his feet on the stone floor angrily, then flung himself across the bed so that his face was pressed into his pillow. He screamed out in anguish and almost immediately began to sob. He could not remember the last time he had felt so dispirited; so disappointed … more with himself than with Harry, too. He was annoyed that he had so foolishly fallen for Harry and let himself think that everything would work out. How stupid he had been… Had he completely forgotten about the years that he and Harry had spent loathing each other? As if there could ever be something more than a civil friendship between them; as if _Harry Potter_ _would ever fall in love with Draco Malfoy..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had maaajor feels for draco while writing this chapter :(


	17. scent

Now that he and Draco had spoken and sorted things out, Harry went around positively care-free. He no longer had to worry about two lonely kisses, or whether Draco felt the same way as him. Harry had been extremely relieved upon hearing Draco tell him that there was nothing going on between them, and now that he was certain, Harry was free to spend time with Draco without having to worry about reading between the lines. 

This was not the case, however, because Draco seemed to be determined to spend as little time with Harry as possible. Perhaps when he had said ‘there isn’t an us’, he had meant that he and Harry had no business together whatsoever, snogging or otherwise. Harry respected this, choosing to go along with what Draco did and not overstep his boundaries. Besides, they both had other friends and seemed to make a mutual effort at moving on without each other.

Harry slowly got back into his routine of waking up early, having a long shower and dressing before heading to the Great Hall to meet Hermione and, if he had slept upstairs, Ron. As January faded into February, Harry and the other eighth-years found their workload growing with each passing day. Lessons were more difficult than ever, and many of them found themselves being given extra homework to practise the spells they so frequently messed up on, on top of the immense amounts of regular homework set each day. Harry was writing so many essays each week he feared his hand was going to drop off. He was staying up well past midnight each night and was seriously sleep-deprived. Hermione made a habit of pointing out his disastrous sleeping schedule.

“You should sleep at night and do your homework in your frees!” she mumbled after prodding him awake one afternoon in the middle of February. The three of them were sitting in the library, trying to complete a particularly difficult essay for Professor McGonagall. Harry had easily slipped off to sleep: they had just come from a very filling lunch, and the library was so quiet...

“Harry!” Hermione hissed, and he jerked awake yet again. 

“Wha-? I’m up!” he grunted, sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes.

“Finish your essay and  _ don’t _ fall asleep again!”

Harry begrudgingly pulled his essay towards him and stared at the last sentence he had written. He spotted a mistake and hastily dipped his quill into the ink pot in front of him to correct it, then decided he might as well finish the essay. He had a paragraph to go when the bell rang, signalling the start of double Potions.

They filed into Slughorn’s dungeon and took out their things, looking expectantly at the front of the room for instructions. Harry caught Draco’s eye from the other side of the dungeon and grinned at him. Draco did not return the gesture, and Harry looked away, feeling rather stupid.

“Good afternoon, everyone, I’ve got a rather special lesson for today!” Slughorn boomed at them, the buttons of his tweed jacket strained under the size of his enormous belly. “As I am sure you all know, today is St. Valentine’s day!”

There was a half-hearted rumble around the room, and Slughorn chuckled appreciatively. “Well, well, though you may not be  _ personally _ affected by it, today is recognised somewhat as a day of love and togetherness.”

“If you love someone, you love them everyday,” Hermione muttered, and Ron, who had been gazing at her hopefully, looked away quickly.

“You are all familiar with the love potion, Amortentia? I seem to remember a brief discussion about the stuff a few years ago…?”

Another murmur filled the room, and Slughorn nodded. “Right, right -  _ well _ , I thought that today - seeing as you cannot  _ brew _ Amortentia yourselves, as it is illegal and takes longer than the time we have this lesson - we might relax today. I know you’ve already got a lot of homework due for me, in addition to all of your other teachers, so this lesson will be very lax indeed.”

There was a murmur of gratitude around the room, and Slughorn smiled at them graciously. “If you could all bring your stools up to the front of the class-” he waved his wand and two of the tables vanished, leaving a large space at the front of the room. “-and sit in a nice big circle. See, Miss Granger, if you come to sit  _ here _ \- yes - and Mr Finnigan, if you’ll come over here - right - and then if you all follow - ah,  _ lovely _ .”

He beamed at his class, who were now sitting in a large circle on their stools. Slughorn waved his wand and a golden cauldron appeared out of thin air, its contents giving off steam, which rose in characteristic spirals. The surface of the potion had a glittering, mother-of-pearl sheen to it. Harry couldn’t help fidgeting on his stool, inhaling the wafts of the potion that seemed to billow over to him. He wanted to drink the contents of the cauldron right down the very last drop.

“So,” said Slughorn, waving his wand again and causing the cauldron to stop in mid-air, right at the very centre of the circle of students. “As you all know, Amortentia gives off a very attractive scent; one that differs from person to person. I thought we could go around the room and tell the rest of the class what the brew smells like to us, and maybe even why.”

The class murmured in agreement, eager to learn what their peers could smell in the enchanting concoction.

“Excellent!” Slughorn beamed. “Well then, why don’t we start with you, Miss Greengrass?”

A Slytherin witch with shoulder-length blonde hair suddenly went scarlet and tentatively leaned forward on her stool to smell the potion better. Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she inhaled deeply.

“Er - I can smell - um-” she stammered. “I can smell - erm - apricots, and - er - peonies and - oh - that smell after it rains…?”

“Petrichor!” barked Slughorn, nodding enthusiastically. “Excellent! Do you know why you smell any of these?”

The girl shook her head and shrank back, her pale cheeks still flushed with a crimson tint. Slughorn continued around the circle, asking the students what they could smell and why. Some of the students gave lengthy explanations behind some of the scents, but Harry wasn’t listening. He was trying to decipher the aromas that he could smell from the potion: there was treacle tart, of course; that flowery fragrance that he thought had been Ginny’s hair but had actually turned out to be the smell of the Burrow’s garden. Harry could also detect the scent of a broomstick handle, but then there was an entirely new scent that Harry felt he had smelled before somewhere - it smelled faintly of cedar and some sort of citrus fruit… He sat puzzling over the smell so intently that he did not realise that Slughorn was now staring at him expectantly.

“Harry!” Hermione hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. He looked around in alarm and realised what was going on. Ron sniggered beside him, along with a few other students around the circle.

“Harry, m’boy!” Slughorn boomed at him. “Tell me, what aromas can you detect?”

Harry was suddenly very aware that all the eyes on the room were on him. It was not unusual to him, given his past, but he still disliked it.

“Er-” he mumbled, staring resolutely at the floor. “Treacle tart, a broomstick handle and flowers.”

He knew that if he mentioned the cologne, Hermione would make it her life’s mission to find out what it meant, and Harry really did not want her prying into his life any more. Slughorn seemed to read his mind, for he said, “Nothing else?”

Harry frowned at him. “No, sir.”

“Right!” said Slughorn loudly. “Who’s next? Ah - Mr Weasley!”

Harry turned back to the floor, barely listening to what Ron was saying about a peculiar scent of elderflowers he could detect (Harry knew that Hermione wore elderflower perfume). He was thinking about the cologne again. He  _ knew _ he had smelled it somewhere before, and recently too. He only wished he could remember  _ where _ …

Feeling like it was not going to come back to him anytime soon, Harry decided to refocus his attention to the class: Slughorn was now standing in front of Blaise Zabini, who looked extremely bored as he informed Slughorn of the new books, fresh bread and fabric softener he could smell. Nodding half-heartedly, Slughorn turned his attention to the next person in the ring.

“Ah, Mr Malfoy,” Slughorn smiled with disdain. “Tell us, what can you smell?”

Draco was sitting on the stool with one long leg thrown over the over, his elbow resting on his knee and his chin propped up in his hand. He lifted his head and sniffed the fumes of the potion wafting towards him.

“Marzipan, red wine, and-” he glanced at Harry, who was gazing at the golden cauldron. “-I don’t know what else.”

Slughorn pulled a disappointed look. “Red wine, did you say? Do you have a favourite maker?”

Draco shrugged. “I enjoy a bottle of Pinot noir.”

“Excellent choice,” Slughorn expressed. “Have you tried any Cabernet Sauvignon?”

“Yes, sir,” said Draco. “It’s my mother’s favourite.”

“Another excellent choice, I must say!” Slughorn bellowed. “Right, Mr Corner?”

Draco returned his chin to his hand for the remainder of the lesson, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye while the remaining students recited what aromas they could gather from the Amortentia. He had lied about the other item he could smell: he had clearly - more clearly than the marzipan or the red wine - detected the scent of Harry’s jumpers, which, he knew because of the hug that he and Harry had shared after he, Draco, had left his parents’ house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OBVIOUSLY there was going to be an amortentia chapter


	18. wanted/unwanted

At the end of the lesson, Draco rushed out of the dungeon before anybody else. He heard Blaise call after him, but did not stop walking until he was in his dormitory. He was relieved to find it empty, and quickly pulled off his tie and threw it across the room, dropping on to his bed and staring up at the ceiling. 

The door opened, and Draco lifted his head to see Harry coming into the room.

“What do you want, Potter?” he asked coldly, his gaze flickering away from Harry’s handsome face and back up to the stone ceiling.

“That’s nice,” said Harry, rolling his eyes. “What’s up with you at the moment? I feel like you’re avoiding me.”

“And what of it?”

Harry frowned at him as he sank onto Pansy’s bed. “What do you mean? I thought we were friends, now! I thought we were getting on alright!”

Draco did not look at him, and said, “Why would you think that?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Harry snarled, anger rising in his chest. “Do I really have to remind you that we snogged twice?”

“They didn’t mean anything,” Draco lied.

Harry scoffed. “Then why did you kiss me?”

“Me?” Draco sat up and looked across the room at Harry, laughter in his voice. “You kissed me first!”

Harry went scarlet. “I - the room was hot … got to my head…”

“That’s Hippogriff shit, and you know it,” Draco seethed. “You kissed me on your own accord, and I let it happen. It was a foolish mistake, and one that I deeply regret.”

“If you regret it so much why did you kiss me again?” Harry asked at once.

Draco did not answer for a moment. His heart was hammering against his chest and he could feel colour rushing into his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what Harry was trying to get at, nor what he was going to say that would give him a viable excuse as to why he had been avoiding Harry since they had last spoken without giving himself away.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “I suppose I was feeling lonely and angry and - and depressed because of the argument with my parents. I’ve never left the house like that before and I was scared of what would happen next. Excuse me for seeking comfort.”

Harry scoffed again. “‘Seeking comfort’? You could have asked for something else, instead of kissing me again!”

“ _ Please _ ,” Draco laughed humourlessly. “You were asking for it.”

“What?” said Harry angrily. “I was not!”

Draco said nothing, continuing to stare determinedly at the ceiling. Arguing with Harry like this was awful; the polar opposite of what Draco really wanted to do with him… He wanted to hold him in his arms and kiss him until his lips were sore. He wanted to- 

“Draco!” said Harry loudly, recalling Draco from his thoughts. He stared across the room at Harry, who was watching him with an expression that resembled a mix between curiosity, confusion and anger.

“Sorry,” Draco found himself saying. “I - never mind.”

“Why did you kiss me again?” Harry asked.

“Does it matter?” Draco sighed.

“Yes!”

“But why?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to pause and ponder what to say next. He didn’t know why he was so determined to find out more about his and Draco’s extremely brief romantic involvement. It seemed like it would greatly benefit him in the future, but he didn’t know why. Harry let out a groan of frustration: there was so much he felt like he needed to do or wanted to do for reasons he himself did not know! 

He got up and moved to the door. His hand was reaching for the doorknob when Draco spoke again, “Leaving so soon?”

Harry turned around and gave him a stony look. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

He threw open the door and stormed out of the room, leaving to Draco stare after him sadly. After a moment, Draco angrily punched his pillow and suppressed a frustrated roar. Why was he so determined to put up a wall and refuse to let anyone in? Not his parents, not Pansy; his best friend, not even the boy whom he was so very in love with. This inexplicable habit of his had caused people to be pushed from Draco’s life after being nothing but patient with him. He greatly resented himself for this tendency of his. He wasn’t sure that Harry would ever speak to him again…


	19. firewhisky

It was as though Draco and Harry were taking it in turns to avoid each other: in November and December, Harry had ignored Draco; in January and February, Draco had avoided Harry because Harry had hurt him without meaning to by saying that there was nothing between them, even though it was Draco’s fault that he had said so. Draco spent much time thinking about how Harry would have reacted, had he, Draco, told Harry that he liked him; that there  _ was _ something between them. Harry was not a cruel person, and would probably not have stamped all over Draco’s heart if Draco had just confessed to liking him. Draco wondered where the two of them would stand if he had not been so keen to hide his true feelings.

It was Harry’s turn to avoid Draco again, and he certainly did not hesitate. For the rest of February, he did not speak to Draco once, not even in lessons or in passing. Draco felt his already fragile heart sink lower with each day that Harry ignored him. Draco could not help but think about why Harry was avoiding him so arduously and realised that he had no idea why Harry was so angry with him. 

At the beginning of the year, Draco had returned to Hogwarts with the hope that he and Harry would become friends and talk more, but now, as the cold and snowy February turned into grey, rainy (though still cold) March, Draco realised that he and Harry had spoken more in the years that they had loathed each other. At least then, Harry had responded to Draco’s taunts with a witty retort or simply ‘Shove off, Malfoy’. Now, Harry was resolutely ignoring Draco’s every move, looking away assiduously when he saw Draco walking down the corridor, refusing even to look at Draco.

There was another birthday party in the eighth-year common room when Ron turned nineteen. Harry, Dean and Seamus put everything together and the party was set to start a few hours after dinner on the night of the fifth of March, which was not Ron’s real birthdate but the best they could do. Hermione graciously accepted her duty to distract Ron while the others set up the party, and Ron was more than willing to follow Hermione up to her room.

“Aw, is there not more of that weird punch?” Harry asked aloud, looking disappointedly at the drinks that Seamus had just set up.

“What weird punch?” implored Dean, wandering over.

“At Hermione’s party, there was a bowl of some pink stuff,” Harry explained. “It looked like punch, and tasted like it … I think. I don’t actually remember. I just know that it made me feel  _ great _ . Couldn’t remember a thing the next day, though… Actually, I  _ still _ can’t remember anything from that night.”

Dean and Seamus exchanged questionable looks of fear and then roared with laughter. 

“You - you  _ drank _ that?” Seamus cackled.

Harry frowned at him. “Yeah. Loads of it.”

They laughed even harder, and Harry’s eyebrows knitted closer together. “Why? What was it?”

Seamus needed a moment to collect himself after laughing so hard. When he had finally calmed down, he said, still chuckling slightly, “That - that wasn’t  _ punch _ !”

“What? What was it, then?” Harry demanded, going scarlet. Seamus fell about laughing again, and Dean stepped in. 

“It was an experimental potion,” he explained. Harry gaped at him disbelievingly. “I’m really sorry, Harry. We should have checked that we’d put it away… Do you know if anyone else had any?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno for sure, but I  _ think _ Ron and Hermione had some. What was it?”

Dean chuckled. “Er- we mixed some Elixir to Induce Euphoria with - well - quite a lot of Forgetfulness Potion. I’m really sorry!” he added, upon seeing the look of horror on Harry’s face. 

Harry shook his head. “Explains why I don’t remember a fucking thing.”

Dean offered him an apologetic look, and then returned to decorating the common room for the party. It wasn’t long before everything was in its place. Harry, Dean, Seamus and the other eighth-years who had helped put up the decorations went to change out of their uniform and returned to find Luna and Ginny waiting in the empty common room.

“What’ve you distracted Ron with?” Ginny asked.

Harry grinned at her. “Hermione,” he said simply, and she laughed. 

“So, when’s he coming down?”

“Whenever they’re done,” Harry shrugged. They chatted for a while, waiting for Hermione to bring Ron downstairs. Luna stayed with them for a bit before quietly drifting away, wandering out of the common room and down the corridor into Draco’s room, where he sat, reading.

“Hello, Draco,” she said serenely, inviting herself into the room.

“What are you doing here, Loony?” Pansy called from her bed, and Draco threw a pillow at her.

“Don’t call her that,” he snapped. “Hi, Luna.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and left the room, scowling at Luna and Draco as she went. Luna sat on the end of Draco’s bed and looked around the room with her large, protuberant eyes.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her gaze fixated on a stack of books sitting on top of Draco’s chest of drawers. 

“Yes,” Draco lied, and Luna looked at him.

“You aren’t,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Luna sighed, but she did not pester him any further. “You and Harry haven’t spoken in a while,” she mentioned. Draco knew she was only making an observation.

“I - he seems to be avoiding me,” said Draco glumly.

“Do you know why?”

“Actually, no. He stormed out of here the last time we spoke and I cannot pinpoint any particular reason as to why he would be so insistent in ignoring me in the way he is.”

“Should I ask him about it?”

Draco shrugged. “I doubt it would make much difference…”

“Why don’t  _ you _ talk to him about it?” Luna suggested.

“He won’t even look at me-”

Luna seemed to detect the pain in his voice. “Is that why you’re upset?”

“I-”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” she said, suddenly, and Draco felt his cheeks go crimson. He opened his mouth to say something, but found that he was unable to speak.

“Don’t worry, Draco,” Luna reassured him. “I won’t tell anyone. I would rather have my brain be infested by Wrackspurts.”

He stared resolutely at his feet, extremely aware that the colour was not going to leave his face anytime soon.

“I’ll ask him to talk to you,” said Luna. “He knows that you and I are friends and always seems to do what I ask, if it’s within reason.”

Draco scoffed. “He’d probably consider you asking him to talk to me  _ un _ reasonable.”

“I don’t see why,” Luna stated. “If you aren’t sure why he’s avoiding you, the only way to find out is to talk to him. If the two of you don’t talk, you’re just going to stay in this phase of ignoring each other forever.”

“I’m not ignoring him-”

“I’ll go and ask him to talk to you,” she declared, leaping lightly off Draco’s bed. “Better yet, you could ask him yourself. There is a party going on, after all.”

There was a sudden roar from the common room: Ron had finally arrived to his own party. Luna looked to the door and back to Draco, holding out her hand to him.

“Come on, Draco,” she smiled at him. “What else have you got to lose?”

He opened his mouth to argue, but realised rather quickly that she had a point, and instead, took her oustretched hand and let her pull him from the comfort of his room.

*

The party was in full swing: music was blaring; the decorations glittered and glinted in the firelight; the eighth-years were chatting and laughing and dancing. Harry was talking to Ron and Hermione when Luna and Draco made an appearance. Harry barely glanced up from his Butterbeer.

“I can’t  _ believe _ they did that!” Hermione seethed. Harry had just told her and Ron about the mysterious punch from her own party. 

Ron raised his eyebrows at her. “Really? Dean and Seamus?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, alright, I suppose it  _ is _ quite like them, but that doesn’t make it any more okay!”

“Let it go, ‘Mione,” said Ron gently, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. “They didn’t mean to leave it out-”

Harry and Hermione raised their eyebrows at him, and his ears went red. “Right, _ maybe _ they meant to, but we don’t know! Besides, what does it matter? It’s not like it’s going to affect us much whether we can remember or not, is it?”

They agreed and Ron went off to get the three of them some drinks. Hermione caught Harry looking at Draco over the top of his bottle of Butterbeer and gave him a quizzical yet somehow knowing look that he didn’t notice for a few seconds.

“What?” he asked, blushing slightly.

“You know what,” Hermione replied.

He frowned at her. “No, I don’t. That’s why I asked.”

She sighed heavily. “When are you going to tell us what’s happened between you and Draco?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s happened.” 

“Oh, a likely story,” Hermione scoffed, taking a sip of her own Butterbeer. “Whatever’s going on between you, you can tell us. Ron and I are your best friends, Harry, I don’t understand why you’re holding back.”

“I’m not holding back,” Harry lied. “Nothing’s going on.”

This was not a lie: there was, quite literally, nothing going on between him and Draco. Harry had been arduously avoiding him for nearly three weeks.

“Fine,” Hermione grumbled, seeming to read his mind. “Then tell us  _ why _ nothing’s going on. We aren’t stupid, Harry, we’ve noticed that you and Draco haven’t spent much time together since - well - since before Christmas! And we both know you were alone with him for a few days when he left his parents’ house, so something  _ must  _ have happened that’s made the two of you act like this!”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Before Hermione could say another word, he walked away, suddenly deciding to talk to Ginny again.

Draco was watching Harry from across the room. He was walking away from Hermione and towards Ginny, Dean and Ernie. Luna noticed this and put a hand on his elbow.

“Just talk to him,” she said.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“All the more reason to.”

Draco scoffed. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea, Luna.”

“Why?” she asked. “If he isn’t talking to you already, what else could he possibly do?”

Draco had to admit that she had a point. Since Harry was refusing to even look at Draco longer than he had to in passing, he could do nothing more to distance himself from Draco, other than leave Hogwarts, which he was unlikely to do. Feeling suddenly less woeful, he nodded and set off towards the drinks table. He selected a bottle of Daisyroot Draught and took a long gulp from it. His courage was instantly strengthened, and Draco set off towards Harry, who was now talking to Ginny alone.

“Hi, Draco,” said Ginny kindly as he strode over to them. Harry turned and found that his face was mere inches away from Draco’s. Blushing furiously, he took a few steps back and stared at the floor. Ginny looked from Harry to Draco and sidled away, suppressing her laughter as she returned to Luna’s side.

“Potter,” said Draco, his voice regaining its usual confidence.

Harry sighed and turned to look at Draco. “Yes?”

“Oh, so you  _ can _ speak?” Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

“What do you want?”

Draco took another swig from his bottle. “I want to talk to you. About why you’re avoiding me.”

Harry tried to move away, but Draco grabbed his elbow and held him back. “No, we’re going to talk about this. I’m sick of you ignoring me.”

“Alright,” Harry consented quietly.

“Good.” Draco nodded firmly. “Right. So, why’ve you been ignoring me?”

“Do you  _ need _ to know why?”

Draco paused, and then said, “Maybe not. Why?”

“Because,” Harry chuckled slightly. “I don’t really have a good enough reason. I was just angry at you - mostly at myself, actually - and just … ignored you. Sorry.”

Draco found himself smiling. “That’s okay. No-” he said. “-it’s not. That’s not on, Potter. I’ve been feeling like I’ve done something to offend you! You haven’t spoken to me in weeks! And  _ you _ were the one who had wanted to talk last time. I don’t want to do this any more; I don’t want to play this bizarre version of tag any more. Stop ignoring me. I’m your friend and I don’t appreciate it.”

Harry couldn’t help grinning at him. He nodded, “Alright then. I’m sorry for being a dick to you for no good reason. I’ll stop ignoring you. Are you a little bit tipsy?”

Draco nodded. “Yes. And thank you.”

Harry laughed. “That’s okay. Thank  _ you _ for coming and talking to me about it. I would have probably continued to stew in my own anger for …  _ Merlin _ knows how long.”

Draco grinned at him, thinking fondly of Luna. “Yeah,” he said. “I had a feeling that was the case. I must say, I’m glad you aren’t pissed off at me over something. I really couldn’t think of anything I’d done.”

“Yeah, that’s just me being petty. I’m like that sometimes, I apologise.”

Draco laughed. The two of them spent the rest of the night drinking their way through the bottles of Butterbeer and Daisyroot Draught. Towards the early morning, a group of people sat in a circle, shots of Firewhisky lined up in front of them. Most people in the circle gave up after five shots, but some kept going. Dean collapsed after his eighth glass and Seamus after his ninth. Draco was still in the running, as well as, to everyone’s complete surprise, Hermione. 

Harry and Ron exchanged astonished looks as she slowly, but surely, drained her eleventh shot of Firewhisky. She closed her eyes, and for one brief moment, everyone was sure that she was finished, but then, her eyes fluttered open once more, and the common room erupted into a thunderous roar of deafening cheers and applause. After the disbelief had subsided, everyone turned to Draco as he lifted his own glass to his lips. Harry, who was feeling a little drunk himself, thought he saw Draco wink at him as he tipped the Firewhisky down his throat and raised an eyebrow at Hermione. More applause rang out in Harry’s ears, and Hermione downed another glass. She tossed the glass across the room, where it smashed against the bannister of the spiral staircase. This seemed to excite the crowd even more, as the whoops and cheers were louder than ever. Draco responded by slowly tipping the amber-brown liquid into his mouth, but coughed and sputtered and dropped the glass, spilling the Firewhisky on the carpet.

Everyone ran over to Hermione, Dean and Seamus hoisting her onto their shoulders and parading her around the room. Draco good-naturedly cheered for her victory, remaining on the ground. Harry strode over and sat down beside him.

“You can really hold your drink,” he said. 

“Not as well as she can,” Draco coughed. “But good for her.”

He looked at Harry, his grey eyes suddenly widening. “Potter!” he exclaimed, as though he had only just realised Harry was there.

Harry suppressed a grin. “Hi,” he replied. “You alright?”

Draco nodded and, without warning, leaned into Harry’s chest and pressed his temple against Harry’s heart. “You smell so nice, Potter,” he mumbled. Harry hiccoughed and lost his balance, sending the two of them rolling back onto the carpet. They laughed drunkenly and Harry struggled to get up. This was not helped by the fact that Draco had now positioned himself so that he was resting his chin on Harry’s stomach just above his pelvis.

“Draco,” Harry grumbled. “Gerroff. I want another drink.”

Draco obliged, lying back on the carpet. Harry leapt up, his head spinning. He was a little bit past tipsy, and nowhere near as drunk as Draco was. He suddenly felt an inexplicable feeling of responsibility for Draco, and, instead of running off to get another drink, Harry helped Draco to his feet and slung Draco’s arm over his shoulder.

“Aw,” Draco cooed. “Potter. You smell nice  _ and _ you be nice.”

Harry chuckled, staggering across the room. It was not easy, given the fact that his own head was reeling. They managed to get out of the common room, and were almost at Draco’s door when Draco wriggled from Harry’s grip and thundered down the hallway, bursting into Harry’s room.

“Oi!” Harry called, trying to run after him and smacking into the wall instead. Harry rubbed his head and slowly walked down the corridor to his room, where Draco was lying flat on his back on Harry’s bed.

“What are y-you d-doing?” Harry stammered, hiccoughing again. “Draco, we need to get you into bed.”

“Oh, you’re forward, Potter!” Draco gasped. “Don’t even ask me out! Straight into bed with you, is it?”

Harry went scarlet. “Wh-what? No!” he sighed and clutched his forehead. “Come on, Draco, I’m not trying to sleep with you. You’re  _ very _ drunk and need to rest-”

“You’re drunk too.” Draco pointed out.

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “But not nearly as drunk as you. Come on-”

He managed to tug Draco’s arm and get him to stand, but Draco’s legs wobbled unsteadily and he stumbled. Harry caught him by the elbows and helped him stand up straight again. Harry was suddenly very aware of how close his face was to Draco’s, and how his heart was hammering against his chest. Shaking his head, he pulled Draco’s arm and succeeded in getting him back to his own room.

“There you go,” Harry sighed, panting. “Go to bed.”

“I want more Firewhisky-”

“No, you don’t.” Harry blocked the doorway. “Come on, sit down, I’ll stay with you.”

Draco reluctantly agreed and allowed Harry to steer him over to his bed. They sank onto it, and Draco lay back against his pillows, throwing his legs over the top of Harry’s. 

“Wha- Oh, alright,” Harry grumbled, folding his arms. He could tell, by the throbbing pain in his forehead, that he was not anywhere near as drunk as he had thought he was. This was a mild relief to him, as he had had a very enjoyable night and would not have to deal with a hangover the next day.

“Potter,” Draco whined.

“What?”

“Are you sure you don’t know what my favourite colour is?”

Harry nodded, slightly bemused at the way Draco had phrased the question; as though they had discussed the matter before now. “I’ve no idea.”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Draco declared. “It’s green.”

Harry nodded again. “Brilliant.”

Harry’s original plan had been to stay with Draco until he finally fell asleep, and then slip back into the common room for the end of the party. It did not take long for Draco to stop jabbering away at Harry and tire himself out, but by the time Draco was definitely sleeping, Harry found that he was not all too bothered about going back to the common room. He was sure that Hermione must be unconscious by now, too, and Ron would be with her. As he left Draco’s room, he ran into Pansy, who had a girl with long blonde hair at her heels.

“Ugh, is Draco in there?” Pansy asked. Harry nodded, and she sighed. “Can you take him into your room?”

“Wha-”

“Come on,  _ please _ . I’d much prefer to have my fun with this one-” she indicated the blonde girl behind her. “- _ without  _ Draco sleeping in the next bed. Please, Potter, just put him in Weasley’s bed. He’s too drunk to know what’s what, anyway.”

Harry reluctantly agreed to move Draco into his bedroom and burst back into Pansy and Draco’s room, fished his wand out of his pockets and pointed it at Draco’s sleeping form.  _ “Mobilicorpus!” _ he called, and Draco was lifted a few feet into the air. He backed out of the room, ensuring that Draco didn’t hit his head on the doorframe as Harry floated him through it. Pansy mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him before slamming the door behind him.

“ _ My _ best mate’s birthday party and I’m stuck running around after some Slytherins…” Harry muttered to himself as he stumbled back down the corridor to his room and dropped Draco on Ron’s bed. Draco woke with a start as he hit the mattress, and looked around wildly to see Harry pulling off his jumper on the other side of the room.

“Potter?” he said blearily, but Harry did not answer. He closed the door and got into his own bed, waving his wand so that the lamp went out. Draco lowered his head onto the pillows once more and stared into the darkness, listening to the quiet, distant sounds of the remaining party goers. Harry was looking up at the ceiling too. Having to carry Draco from room to room in addition to his headache had caused him to forget about how much fun he had had that night. He’d made up with Draco; they were friends again. They’d spent hours talking and laughing and enjoying the party together. Harry half-wished that Draco had not engaged in Seamus’s stupid drinking game; perhaps if he hadn’t they could have enjoyed more time together.

“Do you know what?” Draco whispered suddenly, speaking into the darkness.

“What?” Harry replied.

“I’d really like some sugar quills.”

Harry laughed. “Sorry, I haven’t got any.”

“Oh well,” Draco sighed. They lay in silence for a few more minutes, and Harry was beginning to think that Draco had finally gone back to sleep when Draco spoke again.

“Will you go out with me tomorrow?” he asked.

“Where?”

“Hogsmeade.”

Harry had completely forgotten that there was a trip to Hogsmeade next day. “Yeah, okay. We can get you some sugar quills.”

Draco chuckled. “Yes.”

A few more moments passed, and then Harry said, “Wait - is this a date?”

“If you’re alright with that. Mind you,” Draco turned on his side and looked in the direction of Harry’s bed. “If you  _ are _ okay with it, you’ll have to remind me. Chances are I won’t remember this conversation tomorrow morning.”

Harry nodded in the darkness. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered. “It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to make Harry drunk for this chapter but then I realised that it was really unlikely for him to stay sober during his best mate's nineteenth, so yeah. He didn't get absolutely hammered because he needed to be in the right state of mind to look after Draco and to KNOW that he WANTED to look after Draco :)


	20. sugary

Draco woke next morning in a bed and room that was not his own. He looked around and saw Gryffindor decor all over the room, and could only just make out a head of untidy black hair on the figure sleeping in the bed against the opposite wall. He sat up and felt a horrible pang in his head. He gasped from the pain and clutched his forehead. Harry stirred and Draco swore under his breath; he had not meant to wake Harry up.

“Good morning, sunshine,” said Harry sarcastically, grinning at him, his head still on the pillow. “How are you feeling?”

Draco scowled at him. “Have you poisoned me, Potter?”

Harry laughed. “No, I haven’t poisoned you. If anything, you poisoned yourself … all that Firewhisky.”

Draco groaned and threw his legs over the side of Ron’s bed, looking across the room at Harry, who was lying sideways with his head resting on he pillow. Considering he had only just woken up, Draco thought he looked extremely good-looking. Then again, he always did.

“What time is it?” Draco asked, feeling the colour rushing in his cheeks at the mere sight of Harry in the morning.

Harry craned his neck slightly to look at the time on the clock that sat on his bedside table. “Er- it’s a quarter to eleven.”

Draco leapt to his feet, immediately regretting his decision and clutching his forehead as his head spun. He staggered towards the door, turning once to get one last look at Harry, so tired and bleary-eyed, before he left.

Harry found Ron and Hermione finishing their breakfast as he came in. He sat down opposite them and immediately began piling food onto his plates. He shovelled food down his throat, resembling a starving dog. Hermione actually looked away from Ron, mid-conversation, and gave him a disgusted, anxious look.

“Slow down, Harry, you’ll choke!”

Harry laughed. “‘M alright,” he said thickly through a mouthful of toast and eggs. She grimaced at him. Ron suddenly looked behind Harry, his face lighting up.

“Hagrid!” he grinned. Harry turned and looked straight up to see Hagrid’s enormous figure looming over him.

“Alrigh’, you three?” Hagrid beamed at them. They all nodded and he went on, “D’yeh fancy comin’ down ter me cabin after lunch? ‘S been a while since yeh las’ came ter see me! O’ course, if yeh’ve got plans fer Hogsmeade don’ worry about it.”

Hermione and Ron agreed at once, but Harry pulled a guilty look. “Sorry,” he said. “I already have plans.”

“What plans?” Ron asked him, but Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, and he yelped in pain.

Hagrid looked crestfallen. “Oh… Oh, alrigh’ then, jus’ Ron an’ Hermione, then.”

Harry’s heart twinged guiltily. “I’m really sorry, Hagrid. What if I come and see you tomorrow!”

Hagrid nodded idly. “Yeh, okay. Tha’d be nice. Ron an’ Hermione, yeh can still come today if yeh’re not too busy!”

They both nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, for sure!” Ron beamed at him, and Hagrid walked away, his spirits a little lower than he when he had confidently strode up to them. Harry turned back to his breakfast, finding that his appetite seemed to have vanished.

“What was that about?” Ron demanded, rounding on Harry.

“What?” Harry asked. “I have plans!”

“What plans?” Hermione implored politely.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Harry snapped, nearly poking the inside of his cheek with his fork. Hermione and Ron exchanged nervous glances and frowned at Harry.

“Why are you being so jumpy?” said Hermione tentatively.

“I’m not,” Harry sighed, calming down. Hermione raised her eyebrows as if to say _ ‘Of course you aren’t’ _ but interrogated Harry no further. Checking the time, Harry leapt up from the bench and sprinted out of the Great Hall without another word to either of them. He dashed up to his room and fetched his jumper, then hurried down to the Entrance Hall where a line of students who were waiting to have their names checked off a list by Filch. Harry couldn’t see Draco outside and assumed he hadn’t left breakfast yet. Once Filch had checked his name off the list, Harry waited patiently for Draco in the courtyard.

Harry had been waiting for nearly ten minutes when he realised, with a sickening jolt that ran down his spine, that he had forgotten to remind Draco of their plans. Harry sprinted back inside the castle and ducked into the Great Hall, which was deserted. Harry’s stomach did a backflip as he raced back into the Entrance Hall, and saw a head of tousled white-blond striding up the marble staircases in the direction of the eighth-year common room. Harry ran so quickly he thought he was going to slip. The moving staircases seemed to be in his favour, for they did not waver their position as he scurried up them towards Draco.

“Draco!” he bellowed. “DRACO! OI, MALFOY!”

Draco finally turned around as Harry appeared behind him, panting. “What’s wrong, Potter? Why are you sweating like that? It’s the beginning of  _ March _ -”

Harry was extremely relieved to see that Draco was walking back unaccompanied. “I came to - come on!” he tugged at the sleeve of Draco’s jumper.

Draco jerked his arm out of Harry’s reach, staring at him. “What are you on about?”

“I - you - we - Hogsmeade - now-” Harry panted.

“Excuse me?”

Harry stopped, bending over and putting his hands on his knees. When he had finally caught his breath, he said, “We - you asked me out-” Draco went slightly pink. “-last night. You were really drunk, but you told me to remind you. You asked me out.” Harry repeated.

Draco stared at him, his mouth open in shock. “I - what?”

“You asked me out,” Harry repeated yet again, smiling slightly. “Properly.”

“I - I did?” Draco blinked at him.

Harry nodded, his confidence swelling suddenly. “Yup. You asked if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with you today.”

“Are you _ sure _ I wasn’t asking as friends?”

“Positive.”

“And you said  _ yes _ ?”

Harry shrugged. “Of course I did.”

Draco paused for a moment, mentally slapping himself over and over again for being so foolish and allowing his mind to be tainted under the influence of alcohol. He was unsure of whether or not he had let anything else slip, but Harry was certainly keeping it to himself if he had done. Regardless of this, Draco was secretly over-the-moon that his drunk alter-ego had had the courage and confidence to finally ask Harry out.

“Well,” said Draco at last, taking a deep breath. “I best get my cloak, then. Wait here.”

Harry nodded, grinning uncontrollably as he watched Draco dash up the staircase and disappear around a corner. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the bannister. After a few minutes, the stairs began to rumble and Harry ran up a couple of steps to the nearest landing. He felt someone tap him on the shoulder and whirled round to find Draco’s face inches from his own.

“You ready to go?” Harry asked him, a familiar warmth creeping into his cheeks. Draco nodded, also looking a little flushed. He tried to seem nonchalant as he and Harry waited for the next staircase to join up, but it was very difficult to resist the urge to seize Harry’s hand and bounce up and down on the balls of his feet.

They strode out into the courtyard together and smiled at the warm sunshine that had suddenly appeared from behind a cloud. Harry was fortunate to see the weather looking as good he felt, for when he had been waiting in the courtyard for Draco earlier, a light drizzle had been falling. They walked down the lane towards Hogsmeade in silence, independently wondering how in the name of Merlin they had ended up in this position.

Harry was getting lost in his thoughts: why was he so excited to be on a date with Draco when he had felt nothing at the sight of him at the beginning of term? What were his mind and his heart playing at? He had never been more confused about his feelings before, and was surprised that none of his confusion stemmed from the fact that up until recently, he and Draco had been sworn enemies. Was Harry really falling for Draco, in a way that ascended the friendship they had created in the last six months?

“Where do you want to go first?” Draco asked as they neared the village.

“I don’t mind,” Harry shrugged. “Do you still want sugar quills?”

Draco laughed, but did not ask how Harry knew what single delicacy he had been craving all morning. “Desperately.”

“Honeydukes, then,” Harry nodded, turning and heading in the direction of the sweet shop. He held the door open for Draco and was greeted by a welcoming waft of sugary delights. Harry inhaled deeply, appreciating the aroma of the shop. He had missed it, as he had not been to Hogsmeade since December, what with the staggering workload he and the other eighth-years had been busy with.

Harry perused the colourful shelves, occasionally extracting a tin of fudge or a bag of promising-looking creamy nougat. He dodged around the younger Hogwarts students, who were eagerly showing each other cartons of saltwater taffy, packets of glittering pink coconut ice and jars of Cockroach Clusters. Draco suddenly reappeared behind Harry, his pale hands clutching a stack of sugar quills and his face lit up with an excited grin.

“Let me get those,” offered Harry, pulling his money bag out of his pocket as they edged through the crowd toward the till. 

“Absolutely not.” Draco snapped firmly. 

“What kind of man would I be to let my date pay for his own sweets?” Harry grinned.

“Just because we’re on a date does not mean you have to buy me an armful of sugar quills.”

“Come on, Draco, I  _ want _ to buy you those sugar quills,” Harry insisted. “Please.”

“No,” said Draco, refusing to let Harry take some of the sweets out his arms let alone pay for them all. Harry continued to attempt to persuade Draco to allow him to buy him them as a treat, but Draco wouldn’t budge. They emerged from Honeydukes ten minutes later (the queue had been very long) with Draco’s money bag considerably lighter than it had been upon entering.

“Where to next?” Harry asked brightly. “Let me buy you a Butterbeer?”

“Why are you so keen to buy me something?” Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry as he opened one of the packets of sugar quills and popped it into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

Harry shrugged. “Why are  _ you  _ so keen to refuse?”

Draco sucked on the sugar quill and allowed Harry to lead him into the Three Broomsticks. He found them a table in the corner while Harry pushed through the busy pub to get them drinks. When he returned, Draco stuck out his tongue and asked Harry if it was blue.

“Very,” said Harry, going pink at the sight of Draco’s tongue. He passed Draco a bottle of Butterbeer, which he accepted graciously. Draco hastily wrapped up the sugar quill in its packet and sipped the Butterbeer, warmth spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“So,” said Harry casually. “How long have you wanted to ask me out?”

Draco’s cheeks went scarlet and he looked up in alarm to see Harry smirking at him.

“I - er-” he stammered. “Not that long.”

Harry cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows doubtfully. “Really? So those kisses were just a matter of circumstance?”

“Let’s … not talk about those kisses,” Draco sighed. He suddenly reached across the table and took Harry’s hand. “Let’s just focus what’s going on now.”

Harry nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

Draco smiled gratefully and took a long drink of Butterbeer. Harry did the same, his eyes on Draco’s tousled white-blond hair, appreciating how wavy it was without the usual abundance of product that Draco had constantly used to slick it back. Harry guessed that he had stopped caring so much once the war had started, and he, Harry, quite liked Draco’s hair in this new style. He thought it made Draco look a lot more carefree and attractive. Draco noticed Harry watching him and absently ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t- Oh, actually,” Harry stopped, watching as Draco’s hair became even messier. It shined in the sunlight glinting through the window, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at Draco, with his messy hair and blue tongue. He looked more comfortable than Harry had ever seen him before. It suited him very well.

“What?” asked Draco, smiling because Harry was.

“Nothing,” Harry shook his head. “I - you’re very good-looking.”

Draco blushed furiously and tried to hide his face behind his bottle of Butterbeer. Harry looked away too, shocked by his sudden urge to tell Draco that he looked good. 

Draco’s heart had skipped a beat and was now positively hammering against his ribs. This was proving to be a much better day than Draco had expected to be when he had woken up that morning. Actually, now that Draco thought about it, he  _ had _ woken up with Harry a few metres away. So the day had started off well and was only getting better. Draco could hardly believe his luck.

“You too,” he said before he could stop himself. Harry looked up, his olive green eyes wide with surprise. Draco smiled shyly and drank the last of his Butterbeer.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured, meeting Draco’s gaze. The two of them stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, ignoring everyone else in the pub and become increasingly aware of their heartbeats. Draco’s hand slid across the table and took Harry’s again, his fingers slipping through Harry’s. Harry watched their hands on the surface of the table and made a note of how comfortable he felt like this. He wanted to hold Draco’s hand forever, but as soon as they had made contact, someone walked close by their table and Draco jerked his arm away.

“Should we go?” he said quickly, avoiding Harry’s eye.

Harry, who was disappointed that their fingers were no longer intertwined, nodded absently, finishing his Butterbeer and getting to his feet. Draco held the door open for him as they exited the busy pub, and then immediately rummaged around in his Honeydukes bag for the sugar quill he had started earlier.

“Would you like one?” he offered, holding a yellow quill out to Harry.

“Thanks,” said Harry, taking it with a small smile.

“Do you want to go back to the castle?” Draco asked as they strode up the High Street. It was drizzling again, and Harry looked up at the sky to find it overcast once more.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, let’s look in the shops.”

Draco obliged, and the two of them went from shop window to shop window, sometimes going inside for a better look at the products on offer. When they had finished shopping, Harry suggested they walk to take a look at the Shrieking Shack before heading back up to Hogwarts.

“Yeah, alright,” Draco nodded, and the two of them set off for the Shack, sucking on their quills as they walked. They passed Luna and Ginny, who waved them over for a brief chat. Neither Harry nor Draco mentioned that they were on a date. Ginny proposed that the four of them go to the Three Broomsticks for a drink, but Harry and Draco politely decline, telling her they had just been, so Luna and Ginny bade them goodbye and headed off in the opposite direction.

“What happened between you and Ginny?” Draco asked, surprising Harry by not referring to Ginny as ‘she-Weasel’ or ‘Weaslette’.

Harry shrugged. “We just … didn’t feel that way about each other anymore. We had fun, but after the war, it just wasn’t the same. There were no hard feelings, though; it was a mutual thing.”

Draco nodded. “Was there anyone else?”

“Like, have I dated anyone else?”

“Yeah,” said Draco. “I know about your brief thing with Cho Chang, and about Ginny… But was there anyone else that you ever went out with, or even just fooled around with?”

Harry shook his head. “Nope. I’m not really into the casual thing. There were plenty of opportunities for me to see other people-”

“Oh, not to toot your own horn!” Draco smirked, stowing the bare stick of his sugar quill into his Honeydukes bag.

“Shut up,” Harry grinned, biting off the last bit of own sugar quill and stuffing the stick into his pocket. “But yeah, I  _ could’ve _ gone out with other people, but I - I was a bit busy, what with trying to bring Voldemort down.”

“Yeah, I figured that would have been the case,” said Draco quietly. They could see the Shrieking Shack now and came to a halt against the fence, Harry staring out at it with a stony expression.

“Are you alright?” Draco whispered, moving closer to Harry.

Harry looked at him. “Yeah,” he replied. “I just miss them. Sirius and Remus… And everyone else, too. Fred, Tonks, Dobby-”

“I can imagine,” Draco sighed, interrupting Harry before he caused himself any more pain and turning to look at the Shack. “I’m sorry you lost them.”

“Thank you.” 

They stood there for a few minutes, saying nothing and everything at the same time. Harry felt his throat tighten as he remembered Sirius offering to let Harry move in with him, and Draco took his hand instinctively, even though Harry had not said anything. Draco’s hand was warm and reassuring and Harry was glad to be holding it as a tear spilled down his cheek. He looked away from the Shack and met Draco’s eyes, and Draco lifted his other hand to Harry’s cheek, wiping away the tear before it reached Harry’s chin. Harry put his hand over the top of Draco’s, all the while staring into his eyes.

Time seemed to roll to a halt as Draco craned his neck slightly, pressing his forehead against Harry’s before sealing the gap between their lips. Harry kissed him back, softly, and they broke apart. Draco’s heart was beating as quickly as ever, skipping every other beat as he slowly pulled his head away, his slender fingers still on Harry’s face. This really was an excellent day. Meanwhile, a realisation was suddenly dawning on Harry. It explained his strange urge to make sure that Draco got to bed safely when he was drunk; why Harry had wanted to spend more time with Draco and why he felt a tickling sensation in his chest every time Draco looked at him. And, above all of Harry’s other thoughts, the new smell in his Amortentia; it was not just any cologne, but the one that Draco wore. Everything seemed to become clear to Harry in that moment, as Draco kissed him in the light rain: Harry was in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')


	21. lock

“Please don’t tell me you need justification for  _ that _ -” Draco smirked a few seconds after their lips had parted.

“Oh, sod off,” Harry laughed. He glanced at their hands, which were still intertwined at their side. “So… What happens next?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been on a date before. I’ve never held hands and kissed on a date and had to think about what happens next.”

“I’ve never gone on a date like this before- Well,  _ once _ …” Harry thought of the time he and Cho had gone to Madam Puddifoot’s on Valentine’s Day. “-but it was nowhere near as wonderful as this. It was disastrous, actually.”

Draco laughed. “Well, I’m glad you don’t think this was disastrous.”

Harry couldn’t help himself: he kissed Draco again. It was just as short as the last; he couldn’t let himself get lost in it, as they were in public. 

“Watch out, Potter,” Draco grinned as they broke apart again. “That’s four times we’ve snogged, now. If you think it had to mean something after two, this must be driving you mad-”

“Oh, fuck  _ off _ ,” Harry sighed through a wide smile. “Let’s go back, I’m cold.”

Draco nodded and led the way back up the path. He let go of Harry’s hand once they were back on the road adjacent to the High Street.

“Given the way you just snatched your hand back, I take it you don’t want me to tell anyone about this?” Harry asked quietly, his eyes on the ground in front of him. “Don’t worry,” he added, before Draco could reply. “I wasn’t going to anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco breathed. “It’s not that I don’t like you - I do, I  _ really _ do… I just don’t want people to know yet.”

“I can understand that,” said Harry reasonably. “And I’m fine with sneaking around if that’s what you want to do.”

Draco glanced at Harry as they walked past Honeydukes. “I’d like that. And I appreciate you agreeing to keep it between us.”

“As long as I get to snog you...” Harry smirked.

*

Harry and Draco climbed through the hole behind the tapestry some fifteen minutes later. The common room was quite full, so they were sure to stand a safe distance apart. Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione were not among the eighth-years dotted around the room, and assumed that they were still with Hagrid. He decided to use this to his advantage and followed Draco into his room after confirming that Pansy was sitting with Blaise and Theo in a corner.

“This is  _ risky _ , Potter,” Draco murmured as he led Harry to his dormitory. Harry said nothing and closed the door behind them. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the door.  _ “Colloportus. Muffliato.” _

“It’s so easy for someone to unlock the door,” Draco worried, biting his lip.

“Hopefully they’ll have the decency to realise that whoever’s locked the door wants privacy,” said Harry, turning away from the door and pulling off his jacket. Draco did the same, clearly still anxious about somebody coming in. His concerns soon left him, however, for Harry instantaneously threw his arms around Draco’s neck, attacking his lips and kissing him fiercely. Draco staggered backwards, falling backwards as his legs hit the footboard of his bed. He landed on the mattress softly, Harry’s lips still on his own. Harry pulled away momentarily and propped himself up on his elbows, then dipped his neck and kissed Draco again, this time with more passion than he had ever put into a kiss before. Draco gasped through the kiss, and Harry took advantage of Draco’s open mouth by slipping his tongue past Draco’s lips. He was greeted by Draco’s tongue, which pushed boldly against his own. Harry hummed in pleasure, savouring the sugary taste of Draco’s mouth from the sugar quills he had been sucking on all afternoon. 

Harry continued to kiss Draco, stopping only to gasp or catch his breath. It felt like hours had passed when the door suddenly flew open, and Harry and Draco jumped apart, Harry crashing to the floor after flinging himself off of Draco. They looked up to see Pansy walking across the room coolly, bending over her trunk and rifling through it.

“I’m just getting my Charms book,” she said to them as she pushed her belongings aside in search of the book. “I won’t tell anyone.”

She finally located the spellbook and pulled it out of the trunk. Draco stared at her, so mortified that she had walked in on him snogging Harry Potter that he couldn’t even bring himself to speak. Pansy turned around and frowned at them, the book in her arms, narrowing her eyes at Harry, who had his tongue out and his hand on the back of his neck; something he did when he felt awkward or uncomfortable. 

“Why’s your tongue green?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Harry went scarlet and he turned to look at Draco, with whom he exchanged terrified looks before turning back to Pansy and taking a deep, shaky breath.

“Whatever, I don’t care,” she said, smirking, as he opened his mouth to reply. She strode to the door, but before she disappeared into the corridor, she turned, with one hand on the doorknob. “Cast a stronger Locking Charm next time,” she suggested. “Amateurs.”

With that, she turned on her heel and marched off, pulling the door shut behind her. Draco and Harry stared at the door, both of them still shaking from the shock. Draco broke the silence by turning to Harry and clicking his tongue loudly.

“What did I say? I said someone could break through your Locking Charm. And what happened?  _ Someone broke through your Locking Charm _ .”

“Spare me the lecture,” Harry grumbled, getting to his feet. He stuck out his tongue in the mirror on the wall: it was indeed green.

“She won’t tell anyone, will she?” he asked, looking at Draco in the mirror.

Draco shook his head. “Nah, we’re alright. She isn’t much of a gossip, Pansy. Besides, I’m her best friend so she has to keep this to herself.”

“I’m still not going to tell Ron or Hermione,” Harry decided. “They’ll overreact, I know they will.”

Draco shrugged. “Very well.”

Harry hesitated, glancing at the door. The mood for snogging had vanished, and Harry was suddenly reminded of the mountain of homework waiting for him. He walked over to the edge of Draco’s bed and bent down, kissing him softly.

“We will resume this another time,” he whispered. “Thanks for finally asking me out.”


	22. agreed

In the weeks leading up to the Easter holidays, Harry and Draco succeeded in meeting up in secluded corners of the castle without attracting any unwanted attention. The fact that Pansy knew about them actually turned out to be helpful to Harry’s and Draco’s sneaking around, as it meant they could use Draco’s room when they wanted to hang out with each other (or snog, of course) without sitting in a room full of other people.

A few days before the end of term, Ron, Harry and Hermione were doing homework by the window. 

“Hey, Harry, you’re coming home for the holidays, right?” Ron asked, giving up on his Transfiguration essay. “Mum was asking.”

“Er-” Harry looked up from his own essay. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re obviously welcome to come with me and Ginny, if you want to. But - um - well, Mum’s asking if you could get back to her by dinner tomorrow night…”

“That’s fine,” Harry smiled. “Should I go back? I’ve - me and Draco have been - er - hanging out a lot more and we’re pretty good friends now, so I feel a bit guilty about leaving him-”

“He can come,” said Ron at once. His tone was surprisingly casual. “Mum sent me an owl this morning asking if you were coming, and she also said that if you wanted Malfoy to come, he could. And if he wants to, of course.”

Harry stared at him. “That’s very kind of her. Are - uh - are  _ you _ okay with it?”

Ron shrugged. “He’s alright.”

Harry grinned at him and, for one fleeting moment, wanted to tell him about him and Draco, but then realised that Ron accepting Draco as a friend was more than enough for now. Harry turned to Hermione, who was pouring over an enormous book, her eyes moving rapidly from left to right as she scanned the text on the page.

“You’re going to the Burrow for the holidays, aren’t you?” he asked her.

“Hm?” she replied absently, not looking up. Harry repeated himself, and Ron eventually pulled the book out from where it sat on the desk, inches from her nose. Hermione looked around in alarm, glaring at Ron for interrupting her from her reading.

“What?” she snapped.

“Are you going to the Burrow for Easter?” Harry asked patiently.

“Oh,” she ran a hand through her hair, seeming to deflate a little. “Yes, I’d like to. Is that alright?” she added to Ron.

Ron scoffed. “Of course it is!”

“Right,” she nodded and tugged her book back. “Well then, yes, Harry, I am.”

“And are  _ you _ alright with Draco now, too?”

Hermione furrowed her brow at Harry, idly tapping the page of her book. “What? Yes! We’re quite good friends now, actually. He’s  _ brilliant _ at Runes…”

“Harry’s not asking you to declare your love for Malfoy-” Ron teased, trailing off nervously as she shot him a glowering look.

“So you’d be okay with it if he came with us?” Harry confirmed, and she nodded.

“Yes, I think that it would be quite lovely. We could do our homework in the garden-”

“Stop  _ planning _ everything, ‘Mione,” Ron laughed. “Just live in the moment!”

Harry grinned at his friends, his heart positively glowing with excitement. He could hardly wait to tell Draco that he had the opportunity to go with him, Harry, to a place where people would treat him as one of the family. Harry forced himself to continue with his essay and became so immersed in it that he did not notice Draco had come back from the library until he had read through the roll of parchment three times. He capped his bottle of ink and bent over to pull his bag towards him, finally noticing Draco’s finely-polished Oxford shoes.

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, checking that they were both busy with their work, and then looked across the common room and met Draco’s eyes. Draco was sitting at a desk on the other side of the room, a textbook open in front of him, though he was quite unable to focus on the chapter he was supposed to be reading, his eyes skimming over the same three words again and again.

“Ron, move your elbow,” said Hermione suddenly, and Harry whipped around at the speed of a Golden Snitch.

“I’m comfy,” Ron replied shortly.

“You’re in the way of my hand,” Hermione protested, attempting to shift Ron’s elbow up the table and out of her way.

“Oi! Leave me and my elbow alone!”

“You’re being ridiculous, Ronald,” Hermione sighed, and tried to shuffle her chair to the left, but it could move no further (unless it could move through the solid castle wall).

“Could you just move to the right a bit?” she asked. “You’ve got loads of room!”

Harry rolled his eyes and looked back at Draco, eager to distract himself from his friends’ bickering. Draco raised and lowered his eyebrows so quickly at Harry that nobody else would have caught it unless they were staring right at, which, thankfully, nobody was. Harry knew exactly what Draco was suggesting, and nodded ever so slightly.

Draco closed his book with a snap and got to his feet, pushing his chair in behind him and crossing the room, disappearing down the corridor. Harry waited a few moments, trying to shut out the sound of Ron and Hermione arguing, and then packed up his things and tiptoed down the corridor to Draco’s dormitory. He darted into the room and sank onto the bed beside Draco, their shoulders pressed together.

“Hi,” he whispered, as Draco wordlessly locked and silenced the room. He turned his head and kissed Draco softly, Draco’s hand moving up to cup Harry’s warm cheek. They parted, and Draco slid down slightly on the pillows he had propped himself up on, his head coming to rest on Harry’s shoulder.

“So,” Harry said conversationally, trying to mask the excitement in his voice. “I’ve just been talking to Ron about what I’m going to do at Easter, and I’m going to go to his place.”

Draco looked up at him, his face stricken with sadness. “What? You’re going leave-”

“And you’re coming with me. With us.” Harry added, grinning at Draco.

“I - what?” Draco frowned. “No… I don’t want to overstep or anything-”

“Oh, shut up. Stop being so noble. Mrs Weasley’s invited you herself, and Ron and Hermione are more than happy for you to come. You’re friends with Ginny too, so that won’t be a problem. And since you’ve got Ron and Ginny on your side - the two Weasleys who see you the most - the rest will listen to them, although I’m not entirely sure if anyone else will actually  _ be  _ there... Don’t worry, babe. Come with me. Get out of the castle  _ properly _ .”

Draco still looked unconvinced. Harry craned his neck and kissed him again, hoping this would soften him up and help Harry persuade him to go to the Burrow with him. 

“Come  _ on _ , Draco,” he whined. “Please. For me.”

“I don’t know, Harry-”

Harry gasped, and Draco frowned at him. “What is it?”

“You - you called me Harry.”

Draco shrugged. “Yeah, and?”

“You haven’t called me by my first name before.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, of course I have-” Draco trailed off, realising, as he said it, that Harry was right. He gave Harry a tender look, his cheeks going a little pink. “Whatever.”

Harry laughed. “Don’t shrug it off! Draco Malfoy, who is so determined to seal himself off from everyone else, just called me by my first name for the first time …  _ ever _ ?”

Draco chuckled. “It’s not that big. And you’ve been Harry to me for ages now, even if I haven’t said it.”

“Yeah, I felt the same way about you…” Harry replied, his voice barely audible. Their faces were so close together that he did not have to move very much to press his lips against Draco’s. This kiss lasted longer than the previous two, Draco moving up so that he was level with Harry, and deepening the kiss by opening his mouth by the tiniest fraction. One of Harry’s hands was suddenly in Draco’s hair, the other sliding from Draco’s waist down to his thigh where his fingers squeezed ever so slightly and Draco let out a tiny gasp of pleasure. 

Harry rolled them over slightly so that Draco was now lying underneath him. Harry had both hands on Draco’s body now, and Draco’s hands were on Harry’s face as he kissed him fiercely, his tongue flitting around inside Harry’s mouth. His hands flew to Harry’s chest and began unbuttoning Harry’s shirt with a speed he did not know he possessed. 

There was a sudden knock at the door and Harry nearly toppled off the bed. Draco groaned and called to the door impatiently.

“WHAT?”

“Draco, why’s the door locked?” came the voice of Theo Nott. He gasped excitedly. “Oh, shit, have you got a girl in there?”

Draco lay back on the pillow, letting out a quiet noise of exasperation. “Of course not, you stupid prat, I’m  _ gay _ ! What do you want?”

“You said you’d help me with my Transfiguration essay!”

“Merlin’s saggy left- Is that really important right this second?”

“Well, it  _ is _ due tomorrow-”

“Fuck off, Theo! Get someone else to help you!” Draco snapped, and they heard retreating footsteps as Theo returned to the common room. Draco rolled his eyes and Harry grinned at him, his shirt hanging off his elbows.

“So, will you come?” he asked, kissing Draco’s neck.

Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry. “Well, that really depends on whether or not you  _ make  _ me-”

Harry went pink. “No, I meant to the Burrow!” he said quickly.

“Oh…  _ Oh _ .” Draco blushed furiously. “Sorry…”

Harry shook his head, pulling his shirt back onto his shoulders. Draco lifted his hand and ran it over Harry’s dark skin, tracing the outline of his abdominals absently while he contemplated his answer. Feeling as though his arms were about to snap, Harry rolled to Draco’s side and gently leaned on Draco’s shoulder.

“Are you sure that everyone’s okay with it?” Draco whispered, raising his hand in the air between them.

_ “Yes.” _ Harry nodded, slipping his fingers through Draco’s and watching their intertwined hands with mild interest, waiting patiently for Draco to say yes to Mrs Weasley’s offer.

Draco sighed deeply. “Okay then. I’ll go. But-” he added hastily as Harry opened his mouth to reply. “-I’ll go and talk to Weasley-  _ Ron _ \- later. Just to make sure.”

Harry shrugged. “If you feel like you need to.”

Draco kissed him, then looked at Harry smugly. “This relationship’s moving rather quickly, isn’t it? I mean, it’s only been a couple of weeks and I’m already meeting your family. I’m not complaining, though.”

“I - yeah,” Harry blushed. He liked when he was reminded that the Weasleys were his family. He was desperate for the following week to go well for him and Draco.

“It hasn’t _ really _ been a couple of weeks, though, has it?” he added, tracing Draco’s jawline with his finger. “I mean - not really…”

“I suppose you’re right,” Draco agreed. “But  _ properly _ , it’s only been a few weeks; you’ve only been my boyfriend for a few weeks.”

Harry raised his eyebrow at him. “I’m your boyfriend, am I?”

“Of course you are. You said it yourself, you’re not into the casual thing.”

“That’s true,” Harry grinned, nestling in closer to Draco grazing his lips with his finger. “Hm… My  _ boyfriend _ Draco Malfoy - I quite like that.”

“Oh, don’t act like you haven’t said it to yourself before,” Draco laughed.

Harry blushed and buried his face in Draco’s chest, inhaling the now-familiar scent of Draco’s cologne; the cologne that was in his Amortentia; the cologne that had made Harry realise that he was in love with Draco. 

Although they were in love with one another, neither Harry nor Draco had told the other that they loved them, more out of fear of not hearing it back than anything else. There had been more than enough chances, but in addition to being worried that the feeling was not mutual, they had independently decided to take things slow. They had, after all, only started conversing civilly some six months ago. Harry thought it was best to let events play out and not plan anything. He felt that he would know when would be the right moment to tell Draco that he loved him - at least, he certainly hoped he would.


	23. eventually

Draco sat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast on the day that he, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny would be travelling to the Burrow. Ron had reassured Draco that he was welcome to spend the holidays with him and his family, so he now sat beside Harry, holding his hand under the table as the five of them and Luna spent a particularly enjoyable hour or so chatting and eating before they made their way to Professor McGonagall’s office to use the Floo to get to the Burrow.

“Er-  _ Ron _ ,” Draco asked tentatively; he was still not unused to addressing Harry’s friends as though they were his own. Ron looked up from his piece of toast.

“Yeah?” Ron, however, had become extremely comfortable with Draco’s presence. At first, he had put on a brave face for Harry’s sake, seeing that Harry had grown so fond of Draco, but over time Ron had actually started to like having Draco around, now that he wasn’t hissing insults at Ron or trying to hex him from under his cloak.

“What are the sleeping arrangements going to be like?”

Harry looked up from his conversation with Ginny and Luna: he hadn’t thought about this element of staying at the Burrow. There were so many of them; how would they all fit?

“Well, I’d  _ assume _ that ‘Mione, Ginny and Luna’ll go in Ginny’s room-”

“Oh, Luna, you’re staying at the Burrow too?” Harry enquired. “I thought you were just taking the Floo with us and then going to your house.”

Luna shook her head. “No, unfortunately, Daddy’s had to go abroad, so I can’t spend the holidays with him. But Ginny invited me to stay with her, so that’s good.”

She smiled serenely at them, and Ron hesitated before continuing what he was saying. “Anyway, I reckon the girls’ll go in with Ginny and the three of us-” he indicated him, Harry and Draco. “-will stay in my room up top.”

Draco had to fight the urge to exchange looks with Harry. Whenever the two of them had fallen asleep - even for a few hours - in Draco’s room, they had woken up with their arms around each other. He sensed that Harry was thinking the same thing as him; it would be a very sticky moment if they had to explain to Ron why he had woken up to find them in each other’s embrace.

Draco nodded in response to Ron, who went on, “But if you’re not comfortable with that, I’m sure Mum could set you up somewhere else-”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Draco smiled reassuringly. “Thank you again, for letting me stay with you.”

Ron shrugged. “‘S’alright. Thanks for not being a prat any more.”

The was a low rumble of laughter around the group. When it had subsided, Hermione checked her watch anxiously. “We should get going.”

The other five people nodded to her, and the sound of benches scraping back on the floor filled the air. The six of them trooped out of the Hall and made their way up to Professor McGonagall’s office. Ginny fumbled around in her pockets for a moment when they came to a halt in front of the stone gargoyle.

“Hang on- Here it is.  _ Toadstools _ .” She read out loud from a slip of parchment, and the gargoyle leapt aside.

“Ah, Mr Malfoy, Molly said you might be going along with everybody else,” said Professor McGonagall from behind her desk as they came in. “May I remind you, that if you choose to return to Hogwarts early, you must come and tell me formally rather than just appearing at mealtimes unannounced.”

Draco nodded, his cheeks slightly rosy. Ginny was first in line and took a handful of the glittery powder from a pot beside the fireplace. She threw the powder into the fire and called, clearly, “The Burrow!”

She was about to step into the emerald green flames, when she suddenly whirled around, her expression wild with confusion, “Er- Professor, what about our trunks?”

“Oh, yes,” said McGonagall, and with a wave of her wand, six trunks came zooming into the room, landing neatly beside their owners. Ginny gripped the handle of hers and hauled it into the fire with her, and vanished behind the roar of the flames. Luna followed suit, then Hermione, then Ron, then Harry.

He shot out of the fire, landing on his trunk. He was greeted at once with a hug from Mrs Weasley that knocked the wind out of him yet again.

“Oh, sorry, Harry dear!” she cried, as Harry coughed and sputtered once she released him.

Harry shook his head. “F- _ fine _ ,” he wheezed, hurling himself out of the way as the fire roared again and Draco shot out of it. It was an awkward moment; it was bound to have been. Mrs Weasley did not hug Draco but smiled at him warmly as he stood up and brushed the soot off his front.

“Hi,” Draco mumbled shyly, and it took everything Harry had not to pull him into a tight hug.

“Hello, dear.” Mrs Weasley replied politely. It felt as though everyone in the room, save for Draco and Mrs Weasley, were holding their breath.

“Um - thank you,” said Draco. “-for letting me stay here. It was - it was really nice of you, and I ap- I appreciate it.”

Draco’s voice was shaky, and Harry worried he was going to start crying. Mrs Weasley seemed to notice this too, for she suddenly moved forwards and embraced Draco in one of her comforting, warm, motherly hugs. Ron and Ginny raised their eyebrows at each other, and Hermione had a tender look on her face. Luna was staring out the window, looking up at the fluffy white clouds that decorated the pale blue sky. Harry was watching Draco’s face from behind Mrs Weasley’s back, hoping that his expression would not reveal the affection he had for Draco.

Mrs Weasley finally released Draco, wiping away the tears that had rolled silently down his cheeks. “There, there, dear. Don’t cry, now. Come and sit down, I’ll make some tea for us all.”

She helped Draco into a chair at the kitchen table, and Harry darted into the seat beside him, sliding his hand beneath the table and discreetly slipping his fingers through Draco’s. He gave Draco’s hand a single reassuring squeeze and then retracted his own hand, letting it rest upon the table between him and Draco.

Mrs Weasley waved her wand and seven mismatched mugs hovered from the cabinet over to them, accompanied by a large, steaming teapot. She poured everyone some tea and magicked the milk jug and sugar bowl onto the table. 

“Oh, right,” said Mrs Weasley, setting down her cup of tea after a particularly long period where nobody spoke, the only sound being the tinkling of spoons stirring sugar into tea and hitting the sides of the mugs. “I need to just tell you about where you’ll all be sleeping. I was  _ going _ to put all the girls in Ginny’s room and all the boys in Ron’s-”

Ron coughed, and Hermione hit him lightly on the arm. Mrs Weasley took no notice of the interruption. “-but we’ve got plenty of room to space you out a bit more, and that way, you won’t be so squashed and uncomfortable. So I thought that Ginny and Luna could go in Ginny’s room, there’s enough room for the two of them to get on without getting in each other’s way.”

Nobody snickered or did anything to comment on the fact that Luna and Ginny would be more than comfortable on their own: Mrs Weasley did not know that the two of them were seeing each other.

“Then I think - and I trust you both with this - that Ron and Hermione could stay in Ron’s room in the attic.”

Hermione nodded sensibly, while Ron let out a quiet noise of delight. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and Mrs Weasley gave him a stern look. “Absolutely _ no _ funny business under my roof, young man. Save it for - well, whenever the two of you-”

“STOP TALKING, MUM!” Ron bellowed, his ears going red. Hermione had also gone a delicate shade of pink, while the others were sniggering behind their mugs of tea.

“Right, well,” Mrs Weasley smiled at her son’s embarrassment. “That just leaves Harry and Draco.”

She turned to them. “I hope it’s alright with the two of you if you shared Percy’s old room? He was here a lot at the end of January and he’s cleaned all of his stuff out. We’ve turned it into a guest bedroom… There’s a double bed in there, but I can easily duplicate or split it.”

Harry did not dare look at Draco. He beamed at Mrs Weasley. “That’s great, Mrs Weasley, thank you.”

“Are you sure? If you’re not, we can always use the old plan…”

Harry glanced up at Ron, Hermione, Luna and Ginny, knowing they’d be quietly outraged if he complained and they were split up from the solitude with their significant others. Little did any of them know, however, Harry and Draco would also get to room with their significant others. Mrs Weasley had just unknowingly - apart from Ron and Hermione’s case - paired up three couples to room together for the next week. Harry could not have been happier, nor could Draco, but they were both careful not to let their glee show on their faces as they reassured Mrs Weasley that it would work just fine.

After everyone had finished their tea and told Mrs Weasley what had been going on at Hogwarts, they hauled their luggage up to their rooms. Ron used a Hover Charm on his and Hermione’s trunks, pausing to show Draco into Percy’s newly-redecorated room. Harry appeared behind Draco a moment later, pulling his own trunk into the room. 

Harry had never been inside Percy’s room before and had, therefore, no idea what it had looked like prior to its refurbishment. The room was very bright; there was a large bay window on one wall, with translucent white curtains hanging at the sides, embroidered with fine, gold-coloured thread. The bedsheets were also white, as were the walls. There was a vase of fresh wildflowers sitting on the dresser, and a packed white bookshelf stood on the far side of the room. Draco pulled his trunk across the room, dragging an old rug along with it.

_ “Wingardium Leviosa!” _ Harry muttered, pointing his wand at Draco’s trunk, and it lifted off the floor and hovered neatly to a clear space under the window. Draco smiled at Harry.

“Thanks,” he said, moving towards Harry to kiss him quickly, but at that moment, the door burst open and in came Mrs Weasley, wearing a flowery apron and brandishing her wand like a sword.

“Sorry, dears!” she cried, not noticing Draco jump away from Harry, despite the fact that there had already been a good few metres between them. Draco turned and looked out the window so as to hide his reddening face while Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at the double bed, which split into two single beds.

“There you are!” she said, beaming at the two of them. “If you want to unpack your things, that dresser’s empty-” she pointed her wand at the dresser and the drawers flew open. 

“Lunch will be in about - hm - forty-five minutes? Don’t forget to wash your hands; the bathroom’s just down one floor- Harry, you know…”

She hesitated, as though unsure of whether to say something more, but simply smiled at them one last time and backed out of the room, disappearing upstairs. Harry stuck his head out into the hall and waited for Mrs Weasley to disappear from sight before closing the door quietly.

Almost as soon as the door had clicked shut, Draco had dashed back around the room and thrown his arms around Harry’s neck, pulling him close; their lips met.

Harry pulled away from Draco, grinning. “Careful! What if she comes back in?”

Draco replied by kissing Harry again, parting only to point his wand at the door and lock it wordlessly. He and Harry stumbled over to the nearest bed, kissing each other ceaselessly. They sank onto it, and Draco’s hand moved to Harry’s cheek. Harry’s slid up the back of Draco’s neck and curled into a fist in his hair.

Draco could hardly believe his luck: not only had he been so graciously invited to stay with a family that had been so poorly treated by his own, but he had also ended up sharing a room with Harry and  _ only _ Harry, and was now kissing him in the bright morning light streaming in through the window.

*

Despite how much they both wanted to, Harry and Draco did not spend their Easter break in their room, but enjoyed playing two-a-side Quidditch with Ron and Ginny while Luna and Hermione cheered from the sidelines, neither of them keen on flying on brooms. When they were unable to spend their time outside, the six of them would help Mrs Weasley around the house or chat in the living room, playing board games and sharing stories with one another, even though most of the stories had been heard a hundred times before (though not to Draco).

Draco was unexpectedly comfortable at the Burrow. Harry was with him at nearly all times, which added to his comfort, but when he was not, Mrs Weasley was inexplicably nice to him, as were the others. He was actually enjoying his holidays, stealing moments with Harry and talking to people who had so kindly accepted him into their lives after  he had been so unpleasant to them in the past. Naturally, he was most comfortable with Harry or Luna, but he did not resent the few times he was alone with the others. Out of the five friends he had travelled with, Draco was most awkward around Ron, but was pleased to see that Ron was truly making an effort to develop their relationship. Mr Weasley, who was almost always present at dinner, had been slightly on edge with Draco at first, given the tension between him and Draco’s father, but Draco had soon assured him that he was nothing like his father and was very sorry on Lucius’s behalf for any pain caused to Mr Weasley. After this, Mr Weasley became quite taken with Draco and spent much of their mealtimes together trying to get to know Draco. 

On the morning of the last full day at the Burrow, Luna came out of the bathroom as Harry and Draco were coming down the stairs, and she could not help but notice the slight pink tint to their cheeks. She waited until after breakfast to speak to them about it, catching Draco as he got up from his chair; Harry was helping Mrs Weasley sort through a large pile of socks.

“Draco, can I talk to you for a moment?” said Luna dreamily, her voice quiet.

“Of course,” said Draco, pushing in his chair and following Luna into the stairwell. “What’s up?”

“Well, I’ve noticed you and Harry have been quite inseparable this week. I’m glad the two of you have cleared up any conflict between you.”

Draco smiled awkwardly, and Luna went on, “Forgive me if I’m completely wrong here, but…” she paused for a moment, contemplating how best to word what she wanted to ask. “-is there something  _ else _ going on with you two?”

Draco had an inkling that he knew what she was getting at but did not let on. “What do you mean?”

“As in,” Luna continued. “Are you … are you seeing each other?”

Draco tried to stop himself from going scarlet. “Wh-what?  _ No! _ I’m not - we’re not-!”

It was no use: given Luna’s expression, Draco knew that his reaction had been as good as a confession. Luna picked at the old wood of the bannister absently. “I thought so. I won’t tell anyone; it’s not really my place to. I should mention, Ginny suspects it too… I haven’t said anything to her, but she’s good at deciphering Harry’s feelings, and I think she detected something for you in his emotion … something like that. I just thought you ought to know.”

Draco nodded. “Thanks.”

Luna paused, and then said, “Is it alright if I mention this to Harry? That I know?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Go for it.”

She beamed at him and lifted herself onto her tiptoes, planting a soft kiss on Draco’s cheek. He smiled at her. “Why don’t the four of us go for a walk after lunch? Or better yet, let’s go now and be back for lunch. Ron and Hermione don’t know - I don’t even think they suspect anything; they don’t need to come.”

Luna nodded. “I think that’d be nice. Let me go tell Ginny.”

She drifted away from him, and he set off for the living room to find Harry laughing with Ron and Hermione, a basket of clean laundry in his lap. The three of them were sorting through it and talking animatedly. Draco hesitated at the door, feeling slightly guilty about interrupting them. At that moment, however, Hermione looked up at saw Draco lingering at the door.

“Oh, Draco, there you are,” she said, smiling at him. “Is this your jumper?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah. Thanks,” he added. Hermione smiled warmly at him and continued pulling clothes from the basket and putting it into one of six piles.

“Hey, Harry?” Draco mumbled. Harry looked up, smiling at the mere sight of Draco.

“Yeah?”

“Er-” Draco did not want to ask to speak to Harry in private or ask him if he wanted to go on a walk in front of Ron and Hermione. “Could you come help me look for my shampoo? I took it out of the bathroom to pack and think you - er - could have moved it while you were packing?”

Harry frowned for a second and then realised what Draco was getting at. He got to his feet and carefully stepped around the piles of clean laundry towards Draco, following him into the room where they had been staying.

Harry closed the door and instinctively moved towards Draco, kissing him softly. Draco momentarily forgot why he had wanted to talk to Harry, and almost lost himself in the kiss. His sense only returned to him when Harry pause for air and Draco was sorry to stop him from leaning in and letting them go on.

“Sorry, I didn’t come up here to snog,” he whispered, their foreheads pressed together. “Although that was really great!” he added, seeing the look on Harry’s face.

Harry walked away from him and started unnecessarily pulling things out of his trunk and then putting them back. “So why’d you want to talk to me?”

“Er-” Draco sighed. “Luna knows.”

Harry looked up at once. “What?”

Draco nodded. “She guessed, and I couldn’t lie to her…”

“Well, is she - will she keep it to herself?”

“I think so,” said Draco. “She said she wouldn’t tell anyone … but then she mentioned that Ginny suspected something going on between us… I suggested that the four of us go for a walk, and she went off to ‘tell Ginny’.”

“Tell Ginny what?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know whether she meant that she was going to tell her that we were going for a walk or that we’re going out.”

Harry sighed. “Do we mind if Ginny knows? I trust her completely, and I don’t think she’d overreact or anything. All this sneaking around’s going to catch us up in the end… And if - when we eventually tell them - Ron and Hermione find out that Ginny knew before them, they’d be hurt.”

Draco shrugged. “There’s a chance Ginny already knows, and besides, you can make it up to them. You died for the Wizarding World.”

Harry laughed. “I can’t just use that as an excuse!”

“Why not?”

“I - they’re my best friends!”

“So? You  _ died _ so that they could survive-”

“Draco, shut up,” Harry said, still grinning.

“Make me,” uttered Draco. Harry raised his eyebrows at him, moving towards him swiftly and slipping his arm around Draco’s waist. He pressed a kiss to Draco’s lips and opened his mouth slightly. Draco kissed Harry back, moving his head to deepen it and putting a hand on the nape of Harry’s neck to steady them. He forgot all about the walk that they were supposed to be leaving on…

The door burst open, and Harry and Draco sprang apart, but not before Ginny had seen them kissing.

“I KNEW IT!” she yelled triumphantly, and Harry hissed at her to be quiet, waving his wand and slamming the door shut behind her. She stared from him to Draco, her expression nothing short of victorious.

“I knew it!” she repeated, quieter this time.

“Yes, yes,  _ alright _ !” Draco hissed. “Why’re you coming up here and bursting in like it’s your room, anyway?”

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. “Luna told me to come and remind you that you invited us to go for a walk. Nice to see that you didn’t get distracted, Draco.”

“Oh, shut up,” Draco scowled, snatching his cloak up from the top of his trunk and pushing past her. Ginny laughed and followed him, Harry close behind. They moved down the stairs and met Luna by the kitchen door. Ginny was wearing a smug expression and mouthed  _ ‘They were snogging!’ _ to Luna as the four of them made their way into the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was perusing a thick cookbook.

“We’re going for a walk, Mum,” said Ginny. “We’ll be back for lunch.”

“Be careful,” said Mrs Weasley, watching them anxiously as they filed out the back door. Once they were out from earshot of the open windows of the Burrow and traipsing through the muddy, uneven ground, Ginny let out a loud whoop that caused several birds in a nearby tree take flight.

“For fuck’s sake, Ginny!” Draco complained, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Ginny shot back. “I  _ knew _ there was something going on between you two! I mean, you were alright with each other but then one day you were just ...  _ way _ more comfortable than you had been the day before.”

Harry couldn’t help grinning: three people now knew about his and Draco’s relationship. Harry felt that Ron and Hermione were bound to find out soon, but whether they walked in on them or he told them formally, Harry did not know. All he was certain of was that, when they did find out, he and Draco would be free to hold each other’s hand in public, like Ron and Hermione; they would be able to flirt and bicker openly; they would be able to snog each other without hiding… The mere thought of it made Harry’s heart soar.

“So,” said Ginny, recalling Harry from his thoughts. “How long have you two been hooking up?”

Draco went scarlet and Harry stared resolutely at the ground as they marched through it, no particular destination in mind.

“Not that long,” Harry replied quietly. 

Ginny smirked at him. “I won’t tell Ron,” she said after a moment. “I’m assuming he doesn’t know.”

She glanced at Draco. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s alright with you and everything, I just think finding out that his best mate was macking you would be a bit much for him. And I’m sure Harry agrees.”

Draco looked at Harry. “Do you?” he asked him, and Harry glanced up and nodded.

“He’ll find out eventually,” Draco sighed. “How long can we put it off? Like you said, Harry, all this sneaking around is bound to catch us up at some point.”

Harry did not reply. Draco went on, “So what do you reckon? Do we tell him or do we wait until he walks in on us snogging like Ginny?”

Harry shook his head. “I think we should wait and see what happens.” He stopped, grabbing Draco’s hand and stopping him, too. Luna and Ginny slowed down but kept walking. “Back in Hogsmeade last month,” said Harry. “-you said you didn’t want to tell anyone. I am more than okay with sticking it out with you if that’s what you want. Pansy already knows … and it doesn’t look like you’re too fussed about any of  _ your _ friends finding out-”

“Harry,” said Draco, cutting him off. “Ron and Hermione are my friends too, now. And you clearly want them to know. Who cares how I felt last month? I’ve changed my mind; I don’t like having to sneak around with you all the time. I want to show you off.”

Harry laughed. “I don’t want you to just say that because you care about me, or wh-”

“I’m not,” said Draco, interrupting him again. “I’m telling you, that’s how I feel. We should tell them.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Draco took his hand and started walking again. Harry knew Draco’s word was final, and that he meant what he said.

“So…” Harry said, turning to look at Draco as they walked towards where Luna and Ginny were sat down on the damp grass. “When are we going to tell them?”

“Not yet. Let’s wait until we’re back at school.”

Harry nodded. “What do we even say?”

“Don’t worry about that now, love,” Draco whispered, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat.

“Nice of you to join us!” Ginny called to them as they drew nearer. “You all sorted out, now?”

Harry and Draco both nodded, their hands still entwined at their sides. Luna and Ginny got up and the four of them spent a few hours milling around the countryside, Luna occasionally pulling something out of the ground and exclaiming that it was something that it wasn’t, and the others nodding quietly. It was a beautiful day.


	24. ink

After lunch, Harry and Draco managed to sneak off for a while, pretending they were packing. As they parted from a particularly long and lovely kiss, Draco noticed that he had a stain on his shirt and he pulled it off. Harry moved in for another kiss, his fingers grazing over the scars on Draco’s pale chest.

“I’m sorry…” he muttered, breaking the kiss.

Draco shook his head. “Don’t…”

“No, I need to,” Harry insisted, touching the skin above Draco’s heart. “I never really apologised for - for-”

“Forget it,” said Draco shortly.

“How can I?” Harry replied, his voice shaking. “I’m reminded of it every time I see you shirtless; every time we have sex... There are some on your face, too. Your beautiful face … because of me. I can’t help feeling horrible about it.”

“Harry, stop. I’m fine. They’re just scars.” Draco reassured him. “They aren’t the worse marks on my body…”

His and Harry’s gazes fell to Draco’s left forearm, where his Dark Mark lay, inky black against Draco’s milky white skin. “I wish I could remove it.”

Inspiration suddenly struck Harry. “Maybe you can’t remove it or cover it up, but you can make the skin around it prettier.”

“What do you mean?”

“A tattoo, Draco! Come on, let’s go into town and get tattoos!”

Draco’s face lit up. “That’s a brilliant idea! Hang on, let me get dressed, then we’ll go. Will you go and tell Ron’s mum we’re going?”

Harry nodded, pulling on a jacket as he unlocked the door and disappeared into the hall. He found Mrs Weasley talking to the others in the living room, the five of them gathered around a thick, leather-bound book. Mrs Weasley looked up as Harry came into the room.

“Harry! Come and look at Ron and Ginny when they were little, they were such angels-”

“I’d love to, but Draco and I are going out.”

“Where are you going?” she asked sharply, passing the book to Ginny and getting up from the sofa. Harry caught Ginny give him a sharp look from behind her mother’s back.

“Just into London. Draco’s got something to do ... we’ll be back for dinner.”

Mrs Weasley looked uneasy but nodded nonetheless. “Alright. Be safe, and stick together, will you?”

Harry nodded and allowed Mrs Weasley to pull him into a quick hug. “We’ll be alright. See you all later.”

He waved to them as Draco appeared at his side. Ron opened his mouth to ask where they were going, but at that moment, Draco took a hold of Harry’s arm and the two of them Disapparated with a loud crack.

They were standing in the middle of a busy street, the sounds of traffic and chatter filling the air. Harry was relieved to be away from the eyes of people who knew him, and took Draco’s hand confidently, leading them down a side-street.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Draco enquired.

Harry nodded. “I saw a tattoo parlour up here a couple of years ago. Do you know what you want?”

“Yes,” said Draco quickly. “Are you getting one, too?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’ve had one in mind for ages, I just keep forgetting to get it.”

They made their way down dingy alleys and across busy streets, finally stopping in front of a tattoo parlour, the words ‘VISUAL ORGASM’ were spelled out in large bold letters on the window. Draco read the words with a sour look on his face. He turned to Harry.

“Charming,” he said, and Harry laughed, tugging him inside. Once they were inside the parlour, a pleasant smell filled their noses; leather and old wood. A loud buzzing was piercing the air, coming from behind a papery black curtain. A woman was seated on an expensive-looking leather sofa, perusing a booklet full of tattoo templates, and a burly man with a thick, bushy beard was sitting behind a desk, doodling absently on a sheet of paper while singing along to the song that was playing quietly from the radio on the desk. The walls were covered in framed photos of assorted body parts with multi-coloured inky illustrations on them.

Harry marched up to the front desk. “Hi, we don’t have an appointment. Have you got two artists free before - er - five?”

The man grunted and flicked through a notebook, then looked back at Harry. “Yeah.”

“Brilliant,” Harry beamed at him. He continued to set up appointments for him and Draco while Draco glanced around the room nervously. He sank into one of the leather sofas and was soon joined by Harry. The man from behind the desk was shuffling off to a back room.

“Are you fussy about what yours looks like, or do you just want to make that Mark look a little better?”

Draco gulped. “The latter,” he said dryly.

“Oh, good, then you go first.”

Draco stared at him, the colour draining from his face. “Wh-what?”

“Well, you aren’t fussed, but I am. I need to just sketch what I want mine to look like, so I’ll wait for the artist who’s working right now to finish. You go first, because there’s a free artist right now. Joe’s just gone to get her.”

“Joe?”

Harry indicated the desk and returned to the paper he was sketching on. Draco drummed his fingers on his knees, wondering why in the name of Merlin he had agreed to do this. He looked at Harry, who was sketching what looked like tree branches.

“Harry?”

“Hm?” Harry replied absently, not looking up from his sketch.

Draco was thinking of the golden outline of a Snitch behind Harry’s left ear. “Does - does it hurt?”

Harry looked up at him. “Have you ever experienced the Cruciatus Curse?”

What little colour that remained in Draco’s face drained from it. He gaped at Harry. “I - what?”

“Have you?” Harry asked again, and Draco nodded. “Well, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

Draco let out an enormous sigh of relief and punched Harry lightly on the arm. “For fuck’s sake, Harry, don’t  _ do  _ that!”

Harry laughed and returned to his sketch: he was now adding small flowers to the branches. The man called Joe reappeared and called Draco over. Harry gave Draco’s hand one final squeeze before Draco disappeared behind the thick black curtain.

*

“Let me see-” Draco said to Harry once he strode back into the waiting area. Harry shook his head, mouthing the word ‘later’ to Draco as he moved to the front desk to pay for their tattoos. He returned a moment later, stuffing a wad of Muggle money into his pocket. He motioned for Draco to follow him out of the shop, and they slipped down a dark alley and Disapparated.

“Oh, good, you’re back just in time,” said Mrs Weasley’s voice, and Harry opened his eyes, which he had screwed shut as he had moved through the crushing darkness. Everyone, including Mr Weasley, was sitting around the dinner table in the kitchen. Harry and Draco took two vacant seats beside Hermione and helped themselves to the varied dishes Mrs Weasley had laid out on the table. Dinner was - as it always had been at the Burrow - succulent and mouth-watering, sending warmth to the tips of Harry’s fingers.

As an enormous dish of rhubarb crumble was passed around, an owl soared in through the open window and dropped a letter into Mr Weasley’s lap. He opened it quickly, while everyone else around the table sat quietly, waiting to hear what had happened.

“Oh, it’s from Minerva,” said Mrs Weasley, inspecting the handwriting on the envelope as Mr Weasley read through the letter. “What does it say, dear?”

“Nothing urgent,” Mr Weasley clarified. “Well, not in the sense you’re probably thinking… Anyway, she wants you all back tonight.”

“Tonight? Oh! Sorry, dears,” Mrs Weasley asked, dropping the spoon into the bowl of custard and spattering over Harry and Ron. They shook their heads and looked at Mr Weasley for him to continue.

“She doesn’t say why, but she  _ does _ say that there’s nothing to worry about. I expect they just want the students back early to make sure they’re back in time for school to resume on Monday.”

“What, so we have to go back tonight just so we aren’t late for Transfiguration on Monday morning?” Ron asked, outraged. “Unbelievable! I’m not even done packing!”

“Well you best get on with it then!” said Mrs Weasley at once, shooing the six of them out of the kitchen and up the stairs to pack their belongings.

Two neat piles of laundry sat waiting on the end of the bed nearest to the door when Harry and Draco came into the guest room. Harry picked up his pile and carried it over to his trunk, stuffing it into his trunk. Draco did the same, waving his wand so the clothes split into smaller piles of t-shirts, jumpers, socks, underwear and one pair of trousers. They flew neatly into his trunk, and he waved his wand again so that it swung shut with a snap.

“Are you going to show me your tattoo yet?” asked Draco impatiently.

Harry grinned at him. “Why’re you desperate to see it? And you ask like I’ve seen yours...”

Draco laughed and pulled up his left sleeve. Harry gasped: all around the Mark was a garden of beautiful flowers, inked into Draco’s skin in a rainbow array of colours that took Harry’s attention away from the Dark Mark, just as Draco had wanted. It was such a sight that Harry could hardly look away from it. He was forced to, however, as Draco shoved his sleeve back over it, wincing slightly as he did so.

“Where’s yours?” Draco asked.

Harry lifted the front of his shirt to reveal twin tattoos on each of his hip bones. He had come up with the idea himself, ages ago but on his own nonetheless. When Harry had been sketching the design, Draco had thought they were tree branches, but now he understood that they were antlers; two antlers, curving upwards and branching off, with lilies growing and entangled around them. Draco looked away from the tattoo and into Harry’s face, his heart swelling with affection.

“It’s beautiful, love,” he said, his voice shaky. “Your - your parents would have loved it, I’m sure.”

Harry smiled sadly at him, dropping his t-shirt and hiding the intricate tattoo. “I noticed the Narcissus flowers on yours.”

Draco returned Harry’s small smile. “I fear that we would both be dead if it hadn’t been for my mother.”

Harry nodded. “Quite right. And those flowers are a beautiful tribute.”

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other with a strange sadness that Harry had not expected. They were interrupted by a loud shout from downstairs.

“I suppose we’d better get moving,” Harry mumbled, and Draco nodded. They used a Hover Charm on their trunks and levitated them down the stairs and into the living room. Luna, Hermione and Ron were already there, exchanging hurried goodbyes with Mr and Mrs Weasley by the fire. There was little room left, what with three trunks and five people already huddled around the fire, so Harry and Draco watched from the door as Luna, Hermione and Ron disappeared beyond the emerald flames with their trunks.

“Right, in you come, boys,” Mrs Weasley called them in, and immediately pulled Harry into a hug. Draco exchanged a formal goodbye with Mr Weasley, who said multiple times that he could most definitely see Draco as a Healer in the future. Draco stopped in front of Mrs Weasley, but she embraced him without a moment’s hesitation, whispering something to him in his ear which made his heart swell with affection. 

“Thank you so much,” Draco said to them. “For letting me stay here with you, especially - especially after everything that happened last year. It’s been one of the best weeks in a long time, and I - I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t be silly, dear,” Mrs Weasley smiled at him. “You’re welcome to stay here anytime you like. You’re a lovely boy and I understand that you had little choice last year. We both do.” 

Harry found himself lingering, and hastily threw the Floo powder into the fire and shouted “HOGWARTS!”, and then the Burrow was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tattoos were inspired by a piece of art done by the very, very talented @upthehillart (Tumblr, Instagram)!


	25. velvety

McGonagall was not in her office when Harry shot out of the fireplace at Hogwarts. He brushed the ash off his robes and waved his wand at his trunk, murmuring  _ “Wingardium Leviosa!” _ . He waited for Draco, who popped out of the emerald flames a moment later, and then the two of them made their way down to the eighth-year common room, their trunks floating along behind them.

Harry took his trunk to his dormitory, where Ron was standing over his own trunk looking uncertain of something.

“What’s up?” Harry asked him.

“I - I don’t know whether I should unpack.”

Harry laughed. “Are you going somewhere?”

Ron shook his head. “No, it’s just … well, I don’t really sleep in here any more. I nearly always sleep in Hermione’s room. Even if we’re not - y’know….”

Harry nodded quickly. “Well, I don’t mind what you do. If you want to take your stuff upstairs and live up there, that’s fine by me. You’ll always have a bed in here if you need it.”

“Are you sure? I just feel a bit guilty whenever I stay upstairs and then come and get clothes, ‘cause I generally wake you up.”

Harry shrugged. “So go upstairs. I’m telling you, mate, I don’t mind at all.”

Ron nodded. “Alright, I think I’ll go upstairs. If ‘Mione lets me, that is.”

Harry laughed, and Ron looked at him as though he was about to ask him something else. Harry considered telling him about Draco right then, but then Ron gave him an appreciative look and turned on his heel, hauling his trunk out of the room with him. Harry unpacked his trunk and got up to go to the common room when he realised how tired he was. He had done a lot that day, after all. He had walked around the countryside with Draco, Luna and Ginny, then, later on, he had gone all the way to London to get a tattoo. And on top of that, he had travelled back to Hogwarts. Yawning widely, Harry took off his robes and collapsed into his bed, falling asleep in seconds.

Harry did not see Draco next morning until Transfiguration, where they were unable to talk as Professor McGonagall lectured them for what felt like hours on the importance of their N.E.W.Ts. After Transfiguration, Harry and Ron departed for the common room while Hermione and Draco headed off for Ancient Runes. At lunch, Draco sat at the Slytherin table, which was understandable to Harry, as he knew Draco had his own friends that he wanted to catch up with after the holiday.

Harry did not get the chance to tell Draco that Ron had moved out until that evening when he spotted Draco alone at one of the desks in the common room.

“Did he?”  he asked, awestruck. “I’m so relieved we won’t have to worry about Pansy barging in any more…”

However, the two of them - along with the other eighth-years, the fifth- and seventh-years - had been given so much homework that they were not able to sneak away for longer than five minutes, which annoyed Harry greatly. They still had not told Ron or Hermione about their relationship, despite the number of perfect opportunities Harry had had. Harry was not sure what he was waiting for; why he continued to put it off for so long.

He found himself craving Draco so badly that he was unable to focus on his mountain of homework. The last time he had slept with Draco had been weeks ago; before they had departed for the Burrow. It felt like a lifetime ago to Harry, and he was often unable to think of anything but Draco’s hands and tongue on his skin…

It was the middle of April, and Harry was writing a letter to Andromeda Tonks, wishing his godson a happy first birthday. He had written very little so far, as his mind was reminding him of what Draco looked like underneath his robes…

“Harry,” said a voice from behind him, and Harry turned to see Draco striding towards him. His heart gave a great lurch as Draco slid into the seat beside him.

“Are you busy?” Draco asked, lowering his voice so that only Harry could hear.

Harry indicated the letter. “I need to send this, but other than that, no.” 

Draco smiled triumphantly. “Good. I’m so bored of writing essays, and I want you so badly I think I might faint.”

Harry went crimson and bent over his letter, now motivated to finish it. He felt Draco’s hand slither up his thigh as he wrote, and could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, threatening to burst through his chest. Harry hastily scribbled a letter of well-wishing to Teddy and Andromeda, sealed it inside an envelope and borrowed Pigwidgeon from Ron. Once the owl had flown out into the twilit sky, Harry half-ran to his dormitory. Draco came out of his own room as Harry passed, and they were kissing before the door had even closed behind them. Harry haphazardly waved his wand at the door, locking and silencing it wordlessly. He tossed his wand onto Ron’s old bed and threw his arms around Draco’s neck, kissing him fiercely.

They broke apart, hands flying to the buttons on the other boy’s shirt, ripping them off. Harry kissed Draco’s chest, his lips grazing over the scars that lay there, and returned to Draco’s mouth, kissing him again and again. They stopped momentarily, pulling off their trousers and then collapsing onto Harry’s bed. 

Harry lay back, gasping quietly as he felt Draco’s hands roam over his body, his lips moving from Harry’s neck to his chest to the skin on Harry’s muscly thighs. He pulled back Harry’s boxers and took Harry into his mouth, not looking up as Harry’s hips bucked with Draco’s movements. Harry lost himself in the euphoria that washed over him like waves on a beach. Draco crawled back up the bed and pressed his lips to Harry’s, and Harry put his hand on Draco’s waist, moving them so that Draco was underneath him. Harry straddled Draco’s hips and dipped his neck, planting kiss after kiss on Draco’s milky white skin. 

*

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Potter,” Draco whispered. The sky outside was velvety black now, hundreds of glittering stars painted against it. Harry and Draco were lying under Harry’s covers, tangled up in each other’s arms and panting slightly. Harry grinned, craning his neck to clumsily kiss Draco in the darkness.

“You have no idea how much I needed that,” said Harry. “I can’t believe how long it’s been since the last time we had sex.”

“I know,” Draco nodded. “Although, given the experience I’ve just had, I’d say it was kind of worth the wait…”

Harry laughed and kissed him again. His lips were sore from all of the kissing, but he was in no way about to stop; kissing Draco was as addictive and enthralling to Harry as Butterbeer. It sent warmth to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he could not get enough of it.

The door suddenly burst open, and Draco dove beneath the covers, tugging them down to cover every inch of his tall figure, exposing part of Harry’s bare torso in the process. Draco tried to silence his breathing, but he could not move without giving himself away, even though he was sure it was already fairly obvious that someone was in bed with Harry.

“Oh,” came Ron’s voice. “Sorry, mate, I didn’t know you’d have someone with you-”

He stopped, his eyes coming to rest on the Slytherin robes and tie that lay on the ground. He stared at them for a moment, his brain processing the millions of thoughts that were flying through his mind. He considered leaving anyway, but decided against it, turning back to the bed where Harry was laying, his cheeks bright red.

“Draco?” said Ron, in a small voice. Harry felt his heart skip a beat, and he refused to look at Ron. The covers moved beside him and Draco’s head appeared, blushing harder than ever. Ron nodded, his ears going red.

“I can explain,” said Harry at once, fearful that his best friend was about to lose his temper or storm off.

Ron shook his head. “No need. I had a feeling there was something - something like this going on with you two.”

Harry and Draco stared at him, gaping. “You - you did?” Harry stammered.

“Yeah,” said Ron, nodding. “I mean, you’re my best friend, Harry, and I’m not blind; I  _ notice _ things. I’ve suspected something between you since that Amortentia lesson in Potions on Valentine’s Day.”

“So you aren’t angry?”

“Angry?” Ron snorted. “I’m furious! What’re you thinking, Harry? It’s bad enough that you forgave Malfoy but now you’re sleeping with him? I’m  _ disgusted _ . Don’t worry about calling me your best friend any more if you’re going to keep this up.”

Harry stared at Ron: he certainly looked livid. He opened his mouth to defend himself but Ron fell about laughing. “I’m only joking. Why would I be angry?  _ I’m _ not sleeping with him, so why should it affect me? I was a little surprised at first but then I noticed how much happier you’ve been when he’s around. I’m happy if you’re happy, mate.”

Harry felt a great surge of affection for his best friend. “If I wasn’t stark naked right now I’d hug you.”

Ron and Draco laughed. “Yeah, you keep that to yourselves,” said Ron, grinning. “I’ll see you later.”

He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with a snap. Draco wriggled out from under the duvet and rounded on Harry. “How the  _ fuck _ did he get in?”

Harry blushed. “I guess I’m just not very good at Locking Charms.”

Draco sighed, and Harry went on, “But that went well, didn’t it? Now Ron knows!”

“It could have gone better,” Draco admitted. “He didn’t  _ have _ to find us in bed.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. But other than that, it went better than we’d expected!”

Draco smiled and kissed Harry, who smiled through the kiss. “Does this mean we can stop sneaking around now? Can I hold your hand outside of this room now? And  _ not _ under the table.”

“What about Hermione?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not worried about her. I really doubt that she’d overreact like we thought Ron would.”

“We’ll tell her together, then. At breakfast, tomorrow morning.” Draco decided, and Harry nodded. “But for now,” Draco went on. “I’m really tired. Budge over, will you?”

Harry smiled and shuffled over to the side so that Draco could lie down comfortably beside him. Harry lay back and slipped his arm around Draco’s middle, his nose pressing against Draco’s neck as he relaxed into the pillows.


	26. desire

As Harry had expected, Hermione took the news that he and Draco were dating very well.

“Oh, that’s so great!” she squealed, pulling Harry into a rib-cracking hug. “I’m so happy for you, Harry, for you both! I  _ was _ rather worried that you would feel a bit lonely, what with all your friends being with other people, but you seemed happy so I didn’t mention it... Of course, now I know  _ why _ you were happy! Oh, this is so great!”

Draco and Harry grinned at her, and she beamed back at them. They were both feeling extremely high-spirited, now that their closest friends knew about their relationship (bar Blaise and Theo, but Draco said that neither of them would care). While they were both relieved that they did not have to sneak around any more, neither Harry nor Draco were fans of displaying their affection for one another in public. At most, they held hands in the Great Hall or cuddled up in an armchair in the common room when they took a break from their enormous workload.

Towards the end of April, Harry was pouring over a book in the library during a free lesson. He hadn’t seen Draco all morning and had made arrangements to meet him at break. Harry drummed his fingers absently on the desk as he scanned the page for text that would support his argument for yet another Transfiguration essay Professor McGonagall had set them.

“Hi, love,” Draco’s cool voice suddenly drifted into Harry’s ears, and he looked up to see him sliding into the seat beside him. He gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek.

“Hey,” Harry replied, his heart fluttering. “Give me two minutes, then we can go.”

“Go? Go where?” Draco asked, sweeping his hair out his eyes.

Harry gave him a suggestive look. “Some empty classroom to go and snog in, you muppet.”

Draco raised his eyebrows as Harry turned back to his essay, grinning. “Oh …  _ right _ . Hurry up, then, will you? I quite like snogging you.”

Harry laughed, scrawling down the last of his paragraph before rolling up his parchment and stowing it in his bag. They got up, pushed in their chairs, and returned the book Harry had been referencing to its shelf before leaving the library and walking swiftly down the corridor.

“Here,” said Harry, indicating an empty room on his left. He pushed opened the door and let Draco go in first and followed him inside, dropping his bag down by the door. Draco smiled at him and pulled him closer, then kissed the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead slowly. Harry did not dwell on the tender moment too long, his heart lurching suddenly with desire for Draco’s lip against his own.

Draco moved forwards, pushing Harry further and further into the room, all the while kissing him with the same intensity he always did. Harry loved it; he revelled in it. He kissed Draco back, but Draco had the lead, his hands in Harry’s hair and on the small of Harry’s back. Harry was losing himself in the kiss, and opened his eyes for a fraction of a second, and gave a sudden loud yelp.

“What? What is it?” Draco asked, whirling around to see what Harry was gaping at. At last, he saw it: Harry was staring at a rather dusty old mirror, a look of embarrassment and disgust on his handsome face.

“What is it?” Draco asked again, not seeing why Harry was so appalled.

Harry, meanwhile, was staring at his parents, mortified that they had just witnessed him passionately snogging another boy. It was not the fact that it was a boy whom Harry was kissing, but the fact that he was kissing  _ anyone _ . Were his parents alive, Harry would certainly not wish to be caught in a situation like this. His heart was racing, and he continued to gaze at the mirror, which he had completely forgotten existed. Part of him was quite pleased that he had found it again, and he made a mental note of where they were so that he could visit it again. He hadn’t seen his parents young faces in so long, and he felt his throat tighten as he stared up at them, the shock of seeing them as he snogged his boyfriend fading.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed, recalling Harry to the present. He tore his gaze from the mirror at last and looked at Draco, an idea popping up in his head.

“Why did you yelp like that?” Draco demanded, but Harry shook his head.

“Forget that - what do you see when you look into that?” he enquired, indicating the mirror. 

Draco gaped at him. “What do you mean ‘what do I see’?” He moved and peered into the mirror, frowning more than ever. “It’s just a mirror, Harry.”

Harry felt his heart skip a beat, and then instantly swelled with affection for Draco. He moved towards him as quickly as a Golden Snitch and was kissing Draco like there was no tomorrow, disregarding the fact that his parents were still watching him. He put his hands in Draco’s white-blond hair and felt Draco’s warm hands on his cheeks, steadying them as Harry put everything he had into the kiss.

Draco pulled away, his forehead pressed against Harry. “What was that for?”

Harry inhaled sharply, all fear leaving him. “I love you.”

Draco stared at him, staggering backwards slightly. “You - you what?”

“ _ I love you, _ ” Harry repeated, a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. “I love you, Draco. I love everything about you and everything you do. I can smell your cologne in my Amortentia, and I know it’s you I smell and not the brand… I’ve never been so sure of anything before, but I know that this is how I feel. I love you.”

Draco smiled at the joke Harry had slipped into such a meaningful speech but did not become distracted from what Harry was saying. He could hardly believe what he was hearing: Harry Potter, the love of Harry’s life, loved him too? Draco knew that this feeling of soaring happiness coursing through his veins in that moment was reserved only for Harry. He took a tentative step forwards and smiled at Harry, his throat tight.

“I - I love you too,” he said. Harry’s heart soared, and he kissed Draco again. 

“I can smell you in my Amortentia, too,” Draco went on. “Not your cologne;  _ you _ . I love you so much, Harry, it  _ hurts _ . Seeing your face instantly brings me joy, and the little things you do with your hands when you’re thinking or feeling uncomfortable make my heart skip a beat.”

Harry beamed at him, and pulled him into a tight hug, pressing his face into Draco’s neck. He turned to the Mirror of Erised once again, their hands intertwined, and gave his mother and father a soft smile. Draco let out a small gasp.

“That isn’t just a mirror, is it?” he asked quietly.

Harry grinned at him. “What gave it away?”

“I - you’ve got stubble.” Draco smiled, reaching out and touching the glass over the mirror-Harry’s chin. “So what is it? The mirror, I mean.”

“It’s called the Mirror of Erised,” Harry explained, pointing out the writing inscribed on the arch of the mirror. “That says ‘I show not your face but your heart’s desire’. It shows what you desire most. For me, it’s my family. I can see my mum and dad, and then my other relatives behind them... For you, you can see-”

“-you,” Draco uttered, going red. Harry smiled at him, nodding.

“I love you, Draco,” Harry said again.

Draco’s mouth twitched. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and OBVIOUSLY there had to be something with the mirror of erised


	27. disillusioned

Harry and Draco seemed to enjoy each other’s company even more - which nobody had thought possible - since they had confessed their love to one another. Draco stayed in Harry’s room on most nights, sometimes just to be with him, as opposed to the other things they tended to get up to when they were alone in a room together. Hermione had performed a charm on Harry’s bed to make it bigger, which provide Harry and Draco with more room to fall asleep in each other’s arms.

The weather became less rainy and cloudy as the days went by, and Harry and Draco wished to spend time lounging around on the grounds with flasks of iced pumpkin juice, but they were forced to stay indoors and revise for their N.E.W.Ts, which were nearly upon them.

“I don’t care if we’ve got the whole of May left, Ron, we still have to revise!” Hermione hissed on the last night of April. She, Harry, Ron and Draco were sitting at a table in the common room, open books covering the surface and giving them little room to make notes. Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione pressed on, “It’s not guaranteed what will and won’t come up in the exam, and we haven’t looked at some of the material since sixth-year!”

Ron decided to keep quiet from that point on, but he continued to look grouchy and tired for the remainder of the hour. At last, the bell rang and they packed up, their stomachs growling hungrily as they climbed out from behind the tapestry and made their way down to the Great Hall. Draco bade Harry goodbye at the door and departed for the Slytherin table, where Pansy, Blaise and Theo sat waiting for him to join them.

“But … where’s the food?” Ron moaned, outraged. The four long House tables were completely vacant of their usual buffet of food, and Ron was not the only one who was indignant towards this. As Harry, Ron and Hermione took their seats along the middle of the Gryffindor table with Ginny, Neville, Dean and Seamus, a hushed silence fell over the Hall and everyone turned to look to the staff table, where Professor McGonagall had just risen from her throne-like chair.

“I am afraid that you will have to wait a little longer,” she said, smiling out at the sea of students who gazed up at her with the utmost respect. “But I promise you, the wait will be short and worth your while.

“I am very glad to tell you all this evening that in two nights’ time, there is going to be a ball here in the Great Hall, commemorating the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the fall of Lord Voldemort.”

An excited murmur rang out through the Hall, and Professor McGonagall waited patiently for the muttering to elapse. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged curious looks, and then turned back to the front of the Hall, wishing to hear more.

“The event will be open to all year groups from eight o’clock to ten thirty, and after that point, only fifth-years and up may stay until midnight. This event is to celebrate the victory against the Dark Arts; to remember those who lost their lives fighting for what is right, so that we could all be standing here a year later. The dress code, as far as I am aware at this moment, will be your dress robes, but I will make sure that notices go up in your common rooms to ensure that every student is within the regulations. Attendance is not mandatory, but dinner will be served at the ball.

“I think,” said McGonagall, turning around for reassurance from Professor Sprout, who nodded hastily. “That that is all. Yes… Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. And, of course, tuck in!”

Dishes and dishes of steaming, mouth-watering food appeared on each of the House tables, and Harry and Ron roared gratefully, piling their plates high and shoving the food down their throats like starving animals. Hermione and Ginny watched them reproachfully, wearing equal expressions of utter disgust.

“Are we supposed to bring dates to this?” Ginny asked, looking away from her brother as he fit yet another mouthful of food into his mouth. 

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied. “But if Ron’s going to eat like that on the night of, I think I’ll go with someone else.”

Ginny and Harry laughed, and Ron stared at her, horrified. She smirked at him as he immediately slowed down the rate at which he was eating. Harry’s eyes drifted over to the other side of the Hall, where Draco sat with his friends. He would love to take Draco to the ball; to dance with him in front of everyone; to show off the love of his life to the rest of the school… He wondered whether Draco would want the same thing. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Great Hall, Draco kept glancing across the room at Harry, who was laughing heartily with his companions. He wondered if they could attend the ball together. Draco smiled at the mere thought of marching into the Hall with Harry on his arm, easily capturing everybody’s attention as the best-looking couple in the room. Draco would love nothing more than to tell the world that Harry was his; that he was going out with the best-looking boy at Hogwarts. Draco idly picked at his cottage pie, thinking of waltzing around the dance floor with Harry, unable to take their eyes off each other.

After dinner, Harry waited for Draco in the Entrance Hall and they walked the long way back to the common room, their hands entwined at their sides. For much of the walk back, neither said anything. They were independently lost in their thoughts, which varied from random incantations they had to remember for their exams to made-up scenarios involving the two of them at the ball together.

“Draco?” said Harry, breaking the silence as they crept through a passageway. Draco glanced at him, his eyebrows knitted together in thought.

“Yes, love?” he replied quietly, and Harry felt his cheeks flush.

“Are you - do you want to go to that ball together? I know it’s a big thing,” he added before Draco could get a word in. “-because we’d be - well, we’d dance together, and people would  _ see _ us. It would all be public. I’d understand if you don’t want to-”

“Harry!” Draco chuckled. He stopped walking, and Harry halted, too, frowning at Draco, who went on, “I’m holding your hand right now, aren’t I? I kiss you on the cheek nearly every time I see you, even after being apart for a single lesson. I don’t care those times, do I? Harry, don’t you realise? I  _ love  _ you, and I don’t care who knows it. Of course I want to go to the ball with you, love … I’m hypnotised by the mere thought of going with you.”

Harry beamed at him, inching closer and pressing their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, relaxing. He was standing in a narrow passageway with the love his life; a boy who loved him in return. Draco tugged on Harry’s hand and they walked on, not stopping until they were back in Harry’s room.

*

Draco could see the abnormally pale, long fingers turning the wand over. The white hand pointed the wand at Draco’s left forearm and muttered an incantation that Draco did not hear; he was shaking too violently, tears spilling down his cheeks. A burning sensation like nothing he had ever experienced before suddenly seared his arm and he let out a shrill, bone-rattling scream that pierced the silence of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw his mother instinctively move to help her son, but his father gripped her shoulders, and she writhed as though she, too, was experiencing the agony that coursed through Draco’s veins. Draco could not move his arm; it was as though it was bound in mid-air by invisible ropes. As he struggled, whimpering and screaming, the high, cold voice laughed maniacally and thrust his arm forward to brand Draco’s arm with even more ferocity. Draco’s vision was blurred by the tears welling up in his eyes, and he screamed louder still. He could hear his mother and father sobbing in the corner of the room, and his aunt laughing triumphantly, muttering to herself.

After what felt like hours, the pain subsided, and Draco pulled back his arm, looking at it at last and seeing the Mark that was now permanently branded into his pale skin. Shaking still, he staggered to his feet and moved to his parents, unable to take his eyes off the skull and snake on his forearm.

“Well done, Draco,” said Lord Voldemort, and Draco refused to look at him. “The first step is over. You know what you must do next to swear your loyalties to me.”

Draco let out a strangled sob and nodded fearfully. His mother stroked his untidy blond hair, crying quietly behind him. Voldemort waved his wand and Draco felt as though a cold hand had gripped his chin and forced him to meet the gleaming red eyes. He trembled as Voldemort gazed at him, his expression greedy.

“You will be the one to kill Albus Dumbledore,” he hissed. “Fail to do so, and you will die. Lucius, Narcissa,” he added, turning to Draco’s parents. “-you will watch.”

“P-please,” Narcissa pleaded. “He’s j-just a b-boy!”

“Yes,” said Voldemort. “A boy who now answers to me.”

“Draco!  _ Draco! DRACO!” _ someone was shouting his name. They sounded distant…

“Draco, wake up!” said the voice, and Draco’s eyes flew open. He looked around, panicked and shaken, and his mercury-grey eyes locked onto ones of olive green…  _ Harry _ . Panting heavily, Draco looked around: he was sitting upright in Harry’s bed, and Harry had one hand on Draco’s shoulder and another on his face. Harry’s expression was frantic, fraught with concern.

“I can’t do it,” Draco whispered, his voice strained. “I can’t kill him… He’s going to kill me…”

Harry understood at once, and lifted his other hand to Draco’s cheek, turning Draco’s head so that they were looking directly into one another’s eyes. “Listen to me. You’re alright, love. You’re alright. You don’t have to kill anyone. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you…”

Draco’s expression softened, and he allowed Harry to pull him into a comforting hug. Draco buried his face in Harry’s shoulder and was unable to stop himself from breaking down. He burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably into Harry’s t-shirt. Harry was patient and calm; he held Draco in his arms and continued to assure him that everything was going to be okay, that he was safe. He was glad that Draco had cast a silencing charm when they had gone to bed that night, for Draco’s screams and shouts would surely have woken the rest of the eighth-years. 

These nightmares were, unfortunately, a somewhat regular occurrence with Harry and Draco, who expected nothing less after the war. They were glad that they had each other when the dreams happened, not only to wake them up but to hold them until they were alright again. Harry had been woken by Draco’s terrified shouts and had immediately tried to wake him up, not at all annoyed that his slumber had been disturbed.

“You’re safe,” Harry uttered, lifting a hand to stroke Draco’s hair. “You’re alright. It was just a nightmare, it’s not real.”

After a while, Draco stopped shaking and lay back against the mattress. Harry lay down beside him, his arm slipping round Draco’s middle like always, and his forehead coming to rest on Draco’s neck. Draco soon drifted back to sleep, and Harry could doze off again too, knowing that Draco was okay again.

*

Draco woke early next morning, a sleeping Harry’s arms around him where they lay. He craned his neck slightly to check the time on his watch, which lay on the bedside table. He groaned as he lay back on the pillows: it was not even seven o’clock in the morning yet. Images from the vivid dream he had had last night flashed in Draco’s mind, and he edged out of bed, careful not to disturb Harry. Draco tiptoed across the room, collected his toiletries and crept silently out of the room, closing the door behind him. There were no sounds from the rest of the dormitories, and the common room was empty, bathed in a beautiful golden light as the sun rose from over the Forest.

The bathroom was deserted when Draco stepped inside it. He picked up a towel from the shelf near the door and quietly walked over to one of the showers on the far side of the room. He undressed and stepped into the cubicle, turning on the water and standing under the warm spray, letting it wash away any thoughts of last night’s dream. He squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his hand and massaged it into his scalp. As he rinsed it out of his hair, he thought he heard the stall door squeak, as though it had been opened. He wiped the soap suds out of his eyes and looked around, but there was nobody there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something, like a mirage on a hot day. He whirled around and felt fingers on his chest, and then a mouth on his own. Draco pulled away, staring at the wall in front of him, aware that someone was standing there under a Disillusionment Charm.

“Harry,” he said, his voice quiet.

The charm lifted, and Harry stood in front of Draco, his wet, bare skin glistening slightly in the morning light streaming in through the bathroom windows. He grinned at Draco and flung his arms around him, their chests slipping against each other. “How did you know it was me?”

Draco chuckled. “Who the fuck else would it be? Besides … I’d recognise those lips anywhere.”

They kissed again, and Harry ran his fingers along Draco’s skin; along the grooves of his muscles. Draco pushed Harry backwards and kissed him, hard. His slender fingers held Harry’s cheek as their tongues slid together. Harry’s hands moved down Draco’s chest and stopped at his waist, gripping it suddenly as Draco bit Harry’s bottom lip. They parted and Harry used the opportunity to his advantage, crouching down and kneeling on the wet tiles. Draco’s hands found Harry’s hair, his fingers curling into a tight fist as he guided Harry’s head back and forth.

Laughter rang out through the bathroom, and Harry pulled away so quickly that his teeth scraped Draco’s skin. 

“Fuck!” Draco hissed.

“Sorry!” Harry replied urgently. He eased himself up off the floor and they listened.

“-although I doubt anyone else would be in here this early…” said one of the voices, and Harry mouthed ‘Dean’ to Draco, who nodded and leaned backwards, silently locking the cubicle once more.

“Quick,” said Dean, and there was a ruffling sound as him and his companion undressed. “Alright, in here.”

A few seconds passed, and Harry and Draco heard a tap turning and a rush of water. There were the unmistakable sounds of snogging, and then another voice said, “Did you cast a Silencing Charm?”

Draco looked at Harry, wordlessly asking who else was there, and Harry mouthed the word ‘Seamus’. Harry was shocked; he had had no idea that Dean and Seamus were going out… He wondered how long this had been going on for…

“Why can’t you do it?” Dean replied indignantly.

“You know I’m lousy at them,” Seamus admitted. Harry and Draco heard Dean’s chuckle, the murmur of an incantation, and then all was quiet but the sound of their own shower. Draco picked up his wand from the bench in the dry spot and waved it, casting a Silencing Charm over their cubicle.

He leaned in for another kiss, but Harry moved his head backwards so that he was directly under the spray of the water.

Draco frowned at him. “What’s wrong?”

“You want to keep going?”

“Of course,” Draco replied, chuckling, moving in again, but Harry held up a hand, which Draco kissed instead.

“Dean and Seamus are fucking just a few stalls down!”

“They can’t hear us, we can’t hear them-”

“This isn’t  _ weird _ for you?” Harry asked, gaping at Draco. “I’m sure  _ they’d _ stop if they knew we were here-”

“But they don’t,” Draco pointed out. “Come on, Harry, you didn’t finish me off before…”

“Drop it, Draco, I’m not … you know - not with other people in the room,” said Harry firmly. He strode out of the shower and dried himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist. “Are you staying?”

Draco shook his head. “No, because there aren’t other people in your room.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Lecherous prat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hAte writing these ptsd scenes it makes me so SAD but it's only realistic after harry and draco's roles in the war


	28. remember

Lessons seemed to stretch on for an eternity over the next two days. All anyone could talk about was the ball on Friday night, eagerly exchanging gossip about who was going with who, or what everyone was wearing. The topic of Harry’s date seemed to interest a great deal of people: who would the Boy Who Lived; the Chosen One; the saviour of the Wizarding World be taking to the ball? Harry was surprised at how many people seemed to not have seen him walking around hand-in-hand with Draco, and he actually turned down three different girls who asked to go with him, telling them he already had a date. This seemed to spark even more gossip, and Hogwarts was soon rife with speculation as to who Harry Potter’s mystery date was.

The eighth-years did not partake in any of this gossip, seeing as most of them knew already that Harry would be taking Draco Malfoy to the ball. However, many of them appeared to enjoy the wild guesses that were often hurled at Harry as he passed (“IS IT GINNY WEASLEY?” “I BET IT’S HERMIONE GRANGER!”) and did not hasten to tell the younger students the true identity of Harry’s companion.

Both Harry and Draco guessed that nobody would expect him to walk into the Great Hall arm-in-arm with Draco Malfoy, although they wondered how people could still be so oblivious, given that the two of them had been spending increasing amounts of time together around the school, and weren’t exactly shy about holding hands in the corridors. Still, they did not rush to tell anyone. Both of them were looking forward to surprising nearly everyone in the room when they walked in. Harry was extremely excited to attend a party that would not be taking place in the crowded eight-year common room or Gryffindor  Tower, and also to spend the night all dressed up with Draco on his arm, dancing for all the school to see. He had dug out his dress robes from the bottom of his trunk and had them washed and pressed, and they were now magically suspended in mid-air in his room so as not to crease them. Draco had not shown Harry his dress robes yet, and Harry found it quite refreshing how Draco was being so secretive about what he was wearing to the ball.

“And I’ll meet you in the Entrance Hall,” said Draco on the morning of the ball. They were sitting in the back of Charms, heads bent low over their work as they revised under Flitwick’s supervision.

“I  _ know _ , babe,” Harry chuckled. “You’ve already said.”

“I’m just making sure!” said Draco, grinning at him. 

“I can’t wait,” said Harry breathlessly. “I wonder what it’s going to be like... What do you think the decorations will be like? The Yule Ball was all Christmassy but I wonder what it’ll be like for this?”

“Potter, Malfoy, stop talking!” Flitwick called over to them, and their heads snapped back to their notes. For the rest of the day, Harry wondered aloud about the events that were to unfurl that night, Draco watching him with the same fondness and adoration as always. They revised for a while after lesson ended, and then Harry and Draco spent the last few hours before the ball together in Harry’s room.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked exhaustively, as Draco crawled out of bed and hastily redressed.

“To get ready, of course,” Draco replied, smiling. “We Slytherins are not so carefree about our appearances like you Gryffindors. I’ll see you in the Entrance Hall at eight, love.”

He stooped down over the bed and kissed Harry before turning on his heel and leaving the room. The time that Draco was utilising to get ready, Harry decided to use to nap, setting an alarm to wake him up twenty minutes before he was supposed to meet Draco. It turned out, however, that the alarm was unnecessary, for Ron burst into the room minutes before it was set to go off. Harry lurched forwards, blearily looking around the room.

“Sorry, mate,” said Ron, his ears going red. “Hermione kicked me out. And told me to get ready down here.”

Harry shook his head and disabled the alarm. He realised with a sudden jolt that he was naked beneath the bedspread. He waved his wand at his discarded underpants on the floor and Summoned them, slipping them on while Ron tried to manoeuvre his dress robes. Harry leapt out of bed and Summoned his own dress robes, pulling them on and admiring his appearance in the full-length mirror. Knowing full well that his efforts were futile, Harry attempted to tidy his hair, but it remained as untidy as ever, sticking up at the back.

He waited for Ron to finish getting ready, and then the two of them made their way into the common room. Harry hoped he would run into Draco as they made their way down to the Entrance Hall but he had no such luck.

“Where’s Hermione?” he asked Ron conversationally.

“Meeting me here,” said Ron. Harry noticed that his tone was slightly nervous, and he put a reassuring hand on his best friend’s arm, telling him not to worry; that it would be a fun night. All around them, people were arriving and waiting for the ball to commence. To Harry’s surprise (but relief), nobody paid him much attention, though he suspected it was probably because he was waiting with Ron, and they wanted to see who his date was.

He checked the battered old watch that used to belong to Fabian Prewett: it was one minute to eight. Harry looked towards the great marble staircase, feeling unlucky, but then he saw him. Draco was walking towards him, looking incredibly smug, and wearing a handsome set of deep emerald dress robes. His hair was tidier than usual, though not in the slicked-back fashion he had sported in their younger years. Harry, who had been so focused on Draco, suddenly realised that Hermione was coming down into the Entrance Hall with him. Ron swore under his breath on Harry’s left, and he could see why: Hermione was wearing a beautiful crimson ball gown that spiralled into an elegant skirt which swirled around her as she and Draco made their way down towards Harry and Ron. People stopped talking and pointed, watching as Hermione and Draco almost glided over to where Harry and Ron stood waiting, their jaws hanging open.

The doors to the Great Hall were suddenly thrown open, and there was a sudden clamour to get inside. Harry hung back, thankful for the attention to be off him.

“Hello, love,” said Draco coolly as he and Hermione reached Harry and Ron at last. 

“You - you look…” Harry stammered, looking Draco up and down, speechless. “You look - you look nice.”

Draco laughed. “‘Nice’? Is that the best you can do?”

“I-” Harry found that his mouth was suddenly very dry. “You look amazing. You - you look so …  _ fit _ . Those dress robes look ridiculously expensive but you make them look even more so… I just - I can’t believe you’re  _ my _ date. You’re easily the best-looking guy here-”

“Look who’s talking,” said Draco. “Thank you, love.”

His eyes glanced up at Harry’s hair. “Did you even  _ try _ with this?”

Harry grinned at him, unable to look away. He murmured a response that made Draco laugh, even though Harry wasn’t entirely sure what he had said. All that he could think about was Draco. Whatever he had expected Draco to look like tonight; whatever the two of them had looked like together in the countless scenarios Harry had created in his head over the last two days, Draco had never looked this good. He thought, for one fleeting moment, that he was dreaming, but then he realised that even in his dreams Draco had never looked so handsome; so radiant.

“Harry?” Draco’s voice echoed in his head, and he was recalled from his thoughts.

“You alright, love?” Draco asked, chuckling. Harry nodded: he didn’t think he’d be able to speak if he tried. “You ready to go?”

Harry nodded again and slipped Draco’s arm through his own. They followed Ron and Hermione over to the entrance to the Great Hall, waiting to go inside. Harry noticed that he and Draco were the last in line, and his stomach did a somersault. He looked to Draco, who smiled serenely at him, looking as cool and careless as ever. They watched as Ron and Hermione went in, and Harry was just wondering whether his feet would remember how to walk when he felt Draco take a step forward and lead him inside. Harry followed, managing almost miraculously to look calm and collected as a round of tumultuous applause exploded around them as they strode into the dazzling light of the Great Hall. Harry let Draco lead him, unsure of where they were supposed to go. He smiled at as many people as he could as they passed. Everyone seemed to be lined up on either side of them, cheering and grinning as they passed; it felt like the Yule Ball all over again, only this time, Harry was accompanied by the best-looking person in the room.

Draco could feel his heartbeat hammering against his chest, but maintained his composure. He could hardly believe his luck: he was walking through hundreds of people with Harry Potter, his  _ boyfriend _ ; the  _ love of his life _ on his arm. Everyone cheered and whooped at them as they passed, and he felt his cheeks go red, aware that almost every eye in the room was watching him and Harry as they made their way towards the dance floor. He could not help but wonder why they were lined up like this: there were no champions, after all... Were they simply craning to get a look at the Chosen One as he came in? Draco felt a pang in his chest and wished he had come in earlier, to spare Harry all the attention Draco knew he did not much desire. Draco could sense that Harry was dazed and confused at his side, so he led him on, stopping beside Ron and Hermione and looking up towards the raised podium where Professor McGonagall stood.

“Good evening- well, it is not really evening, but if I said ‘good night’ it would sound like I was dismissing you… Anyway, good evening to you all! Welcome to the Anniversary Ball commemorating one year since Lord Voldemort was defeated. I am sure that many of us would not be standing here today, looking ever so handsome and radiant in our dress robes, if it had not been for those who fought for us. Let us pause in a moment of silence and remember the brilliant lives of those who were lost in the Battle…”

Silence fell as though it had been cast by magic. There was not a single sound from anybody in the Hall, all eyes on McGonagall as they thought of the dead. Draco’s mind drifted towards his parents, but he shook the thought and focused instead upon Harry, who had walked to his death to save the Wizarding World. Draco felt a twisting feeling in his chest as he thought of a world in which Harry really had died at the hands of Voldemort. He was quickly recalled to the present by Harry, who squeezed his hand in the silence.

“Thank you,” said McGonagall. “Now, you’ll notice that there are round tables for you all to sit at whilst we eat. There are enough chairs for all of you, so if you would kindly take your seats in an orderly fashion-”

People started moving toward the tables, grabbing their friends’ hands and pulling them over to the same table. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco walked coolly to a table towards the front of the room. There were four vacant seats left at the table once all of them had sat down, and two of them were quickly filled by Ginny and Luna, both looking beautiful in their ball gowns. Ginny’s was a dazzling white that hugged her slender figure, while Luna’s was a pale, opalescent blue that swirled around her magnificently.

“Alright if we join you?” said a voice from behind Harry, and he turned to see Neville grinning at him, Hannah Abbott at his side. Everyone seated at the table half-roared their approval, and Neville and Hannah took the last two seats. Almost as soon as they sat down did food appear on their plates: a thick, rich, tomato soup quite like nothing Harry had ever tasted before. Once everyone in the Hall had finished with the first course, the empty soup bowls vanished and were replaced by menus, which everyone picked up and perused eagerly.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed himself as he ate, conversing happily with the friends that surrounded him. Once the dessert plates cleared away, he felt so stuffed that he had to insist Draco that he would have to wait for a while before they could dance. Understanding completely, Draco went to go and talk to Pansy, Blaise and Theo, who were sitting at a nearby table with some other eighth-years. Neville and Hannah disappeared to go and dance, and Harry was left talking to Ron, Hermione, Luna and Ginny.

“Hey, Harry,” said a voice in his ear. Seamus Finnigan slid into Draco’s vacant chair.

“We’ve got something for you,” said Dean, sitting down in Hannah’s empty seat.

Harry frowned at them. “Really? What is it?”

Seamus slipped a tiny glass phial from within his jacket and passed it to Harry. It contained a glimmering liquid the same pale blue as Luna’s gown. “It’s the antidote.”

“For what?” asked Harry, feeling as though he was missing something.

“For that so-called punch, of course!” said Dean rather excitedly. “This should bring back everything you don’t remember … if it works. We don’t know if it does.”

“But we’re positive,” added Seamus, after seeing the worried look on Harry’s face. “That it won’t do any more damage. Only one way to find out.”

Harry shrugged and popped the cork off the phial. He hesitated, and then drained it.

He felt as though he had been struck by a bolt of lightning: warmth coursed through his veins and he could suddenly recall the events of Hermione’s birthday party as though they had happened only hours prior. One memory seemed to stick out from the rest, and Harry felt an instantaneous urge to find Draco. He leapt up from his seat without another word to Dean or Seamus and scanned the crowd for Draco. He spotted him on the edge of the dance floor, watching the dancers somewhat enviously as he talked to Pansy. Harry made a beeline for him, nearly knocking over a pair of first-years in the process.

“There you are, Harry,” Draco smiled at him as he approached. “I was wondering how long you were going to keep me waiting.”

Harry grinned at him, panting slightly, and pulled him onto the dance floor. He awkwardly put one hand on Draco’s waist and the other on his shoulder, and Draco quickly righted the position and led Harry in the dance, moving them slowly around the crowd, their eyes locked. Harry almost forgot why he had needed to find Draco.

“I remember,” he said, and Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“You remember what?”

“I remember your favourite colour.”

Draco looked up in surprise. Though they had been dating since the beginning of March, they had somehow never discussed the subject of their favourite colours. It seemed unrealistic, given that he had confided in Harry about things like his Amortentia and what he could see in the Mirror of Erised…

“Do you?” he said smoothly, and Harry nodded.

“It’s green,” he said. “And not because of Slytherin, which is what I thought… Your favourite colour is green because … because my eyes are green.”

Draco sighed. “Yes.”

He looked away, his cheeks going red, feeling foolish. But Harry’s hand was on his chin and he turned his head to face him once again. “Draco…” said Harry. “You’ve never asked me what my favourite colour is.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Draco bitterly. “It’s just a colour…”

“But my favourite colour is grey…” Harry breathed, and Draco met his gaze slowly. It felt as though time was rolling to a halt; that they were the only two people in the world. “And I never realised why until now… It’s because of your eyes.”

Draco laughed. “This is so stupid. It sounds romantic but it’s stupid.”

“Well, yeah,” said Harry, grinning. “But it  _ sounds _ romantic … and that’s good enough for me.”

Draco looked into Harry’s eyes, grinning uncontrollably. “I love you.”

Harry beamed back at him. “I know.”

Draco rolled his eyes again, and Harry laughed, saying something about how it had been the perfect moment to quote  _ Star Wars  _ and Draco didn’t even know what it meant. Draco grinned at his boyfriend and leaned in, pressing his forehead against Harry’s and meeting his gaze once more. He had never felt happier than he did in that moment, waltzing around the glittering silver dance floor with Harry, the elaborate decorations of the Hall all but a blur as they danced, unable to look at anything but each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! That's the whole fic! I know the ending was kinda stupid but it was lowkey romantic (?) so please look past it lol :) I really hope you enjoyed it and would greatly appreciate it if you could leave kudos and a comment <3 Thank you so much for your support!


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